Girlhpod 

Stories 


Famous 


YOLANDA OF ARAGON 
ISABELLA OF PORTUGAL 
ELIZABETH OF ENGLAND 
MARY OF SCOTLAND 
VITTORIA COLONNA 
MARIE ANTOINETTE 
LOUISE VIGEE 
w MARTHA WASHINGTON 


Katherine Dunlap Gather 
















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COJnRIGHT DEPOSm 
















GIRLHOOD STORIES 
OF FAMOUS WOMEN 




















GIRLHOOD STORIES 
OF FAMOUS WOMEN 


CLOTHILDE OF BURGUNDY JUDITH OF 
FRANCE .58 DAGMAR OF DENMARIC 
ELEANOR OF POITOU ^ PHILIPPA OF 
HAINAULT .58 JACQUELINE OF HAINAULT 
YOLANDA OF ARAGON .58 ISABELLA OF 
PORTUGAL . 5 * ELIZABETH OF ENGLAND 
MARY OF SCOTLAND .58 VITTORIA 
COLONNA .58 MARIE ANTOINETTE 
LOUISE VIGEE .58 MARTHA WASHINGTON 


BY 

KATHERINE DUNLAP GATHER 

II 


ILLUSTRATED 





THE CENTURY CO. 

New York ^ London 



THE Li3RARY 
or CONGRESS 

WASMl NOTON 



Copyright, 1924, by 
The Century Co. 




PRINTED IN 17. 8. A. 










CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAQB 

I The Lily of the Merovingians ... 3 

II Arm of Iron.27 

III The Golden Dawn.55 

IV Blithe Heart of Aquitaine .... 79 

V Philippa’s Memory Gown .... 103 

VI Jacqueline.. . .121 

VII Yolanda Shows the Way .... 141 
Will Isabella of the Fleece ..... 165 
IX Daughter of tite Colonnas . . . .187 

X Tudor Bess.215 

XI The Stuart Rose. 243 

XII The Candles of Manton le Claire . 271 

XIII Sunny Vigee.291 

XIV Bonny Mistress Martha.311 








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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Looking down . . . saw a . . . sensitive, beautiful 
face. Frontispiece 

PACINO PAQB 

“This lily maid who is as beautiful as she is noble” 8 

“I pray that the plow-tax be forgiven the peasant, 
and those in irons be set free”.64 

“But this morning she had not come to loiter among 
the flowers”.. 276 





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PREFACE 


The women of history are apt to be just 
names to us. We think of the queens among 
them as makers of proclamations, as signers of 
treaties, as powers whose word had might to 
send armies to the battle-field, or to deprive men 
of liberty and life, but hardly ever of the duti¬ 
ful daughters, the loyal sisters, or the friends 
among their friends that these rulers of nations 
were. We think of the great painters as 
women spending their lives at an easel, fashion¬ 
ing pictures for the world to enjoy, but not of 
the heart and the rich human nature out of 
which those pictures grew. We think of the 
things they did, rather than of the beings they 
were. In fact, hardly ever do we consider 
them as human beings. They are just exalted 
names. 

But, as we follow their lives, we find that ex¬ 
cept in the matter of being known throughout 
the world, famous women are exactly like other 
women. The queen on the throne, the heroine 


X 


PREFACE 


who, like Joan of Arc, leads an army, the por¬ 
trait-painter, the market-woman, and the vil¬ 
lage housewife feel the same emotions. Mary 
Stuart, queen of Scotland, Vittoria Colonna, 
daughter of a princely house of Italy, and all 
the other royal women delighted in the com¬ 
panionship of their friends and sympathized 
when misfortune distressed them in exactly the 
same manner as plain Mary Smith or Victoria 
Brown. They knew happiness and sorrow. 
Their lives were marked by love of their com¬ 
rades, pity for suffering, and gratitude to those 
who had shown loyalty to them. They felt en¬ 
thusiasm for the things that meant pleasure. 
They strove to avoid that which drove cheer 
and comfort from their days. They felt ex¬ 
ultation, discouragement, disappointment, and 
hope. Underneath the pomp and rank to 
which they were born, they were exactly like 
millions of human beings who lived in their 
time and who have lived since then, actuated 
sometimes by noble desires and sometimes by 
impulses not so noble. For the most part they 
were no better and no worse than countless 
thousands of women who have worked out 
their destinies in quiet homes, or in whatever 
sphere fate placed them, striving to realize 


PREFACE 


xi 


some desire or ambition, doing, according to 
the light of the time in which they lived, what 
they believed was justified and right. 

It is according to the light of the time in 
which people lived that we should judge them. 
Standards change as the world progresses. In 
the early period of civilization all laws were 
based on self-interest and the thought of self- 
preservation. If a person stood between a 
man and the realization of his ambition, it was 
customary for the man to put that person out 
of his way. If a wrong was suffered at the 
hands of another, it was justifiable, according 
to the accepted belief, to avenge that act by 
doing an equal or a greater wrong. ^^An eye 
for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,’’ was the 
code of the Dark Ages and during a large part 
of medieval times, but it is not the code to-day. 
If people who lived during those far-off times 
were suddenly to come to life again, they would 
not be able to understand our system of justice 
and our way of doing things. For the head of 
a nation not to be privileged to order off a man’s 
head if it served his interests to do it, or for a 
lord not to be free to strike down whoever stood 
in his way, would be beyond their comprehen¬ 
sion. The laws of our day would seem weak 


xii 


PREFACE 


and ridiculous to them, just as those of olden 
times seem barbarous and cruel to us. 

It is in accordance with the spirit of their 
time and the principles that have been taught to 
them that people act. Therefore we should 
estimate the worth of men and women accord¬ 
ing to the way in which they complied with the 
highest standards of their period of history, 
and not judge those of the eleventh century 
by the standards of the twentieth. Many of 
the great women of the past, who in their own 
time were deemed honorable and kindly, would 
be regarded as very wicked now, although at 
heart they were not wicked. They lived ac¬ 
cording to the only code they knew. To follow 
with best intentions the laws and customs that 
are the recognized guide of men in the time in 
which they live is as much as can be expected 
of them. 

As we look into the lives of the women whose 
names emblazon the pages of history, we find 
that they were girls like other girls. They had 
joys in the activities of girls. They shared the 
thoughts and pleasures of their brothers, sis¬ 
ters, and companions. They built castles and 
dreamed dreams in the same buoyant manner in 
which girls of to-day build and dream. Eliza- 


PREFACE xiii 

beth of England, seen in the history books, 
seems hardly a human being at all. She is a 
stately, cold, moving statue, signing documents 
that involve nations in difficulties, or settling 
their disputes. But in the story of her life we 
find that she was a gay-hearted, spirited 
maiden, passionately devoted to her brother 
Edward, and loving with deep affection her 
stepmother, Catharine Parr. Narratives of 
other famous women show that during girl¬ 
hood they were just as human as Elizabeth. 
Creatures of smiles and tears were they, of con¬ 
flicting impulses and desires. To the world at 
large they were great ladies, but to those who 
knew them intimately they were just girls, not 
a bit different in their feelings from other girls 
of their time, and knowing the same emotions 
girls know to-day. 

The bits of history and legend out of which 
the stories in this book grew have been gathered 
from many different sources, some of them 
from old chronicles that are still preserved in 
yellow manuscripts in great museums; some 
from anecdotes told by friends and associates 
of the heroines of the tales, that have come 
down the centuries as legends that are still re¬ 
counted at peasant firesides, and by those whose 


XIV 


PREFACE 


taste leads them to study the life of the past. 
It is the hope of the writer that through this 
book you may come to know some of the fa¬ 
mous women of the past as human beings; that 
through knowing them as human beings you 
may view them with sympathetic understand¬ 
ing, and realize the part each has played in the 
world, and why she deserves a place in the story 
of human achievement. 

Katherine Dunlap Gather. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES OF FAMOUS 
WOMEN 



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GIRLHOOD STORIES 
OF FAMOUS WOMEN 


I 

THE LILY OF THE 
MEROVINGIANS 

‘ A MAIDEN such as you seek is not easy to 
jL \ find, sire.” 

Thus spoke Remi, the missionary to the 
young Frankish chieftain, Clovis—Remi, the 
high-souled apostle who five years before had 
left the Italy he loved in an effort to spread the 
Christian faith in lands west of the Rhine 
where the people were still heathen. 

Sometimes it seemed to him that his labor 
had been in vain, for although he was not 
without converts, the powerful Frankish and 
Burgundian leaders scoffed at the message he 
brought and went on with the worship of their 
Druid war-god. Beltane. But by his gentle- 

3 


4 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


ness he had gained their friendship even if he 
had not won their hearts to his cause; and now 
Clovis, lord of them all, was minded to get him 
a wife and had come seeking the Christian's 
counsel. 

A glorious blond giant of a fellow was this 
king of the Salian Franks, and his blue eyes 
were very winsome as he declared he would wed 
only a maiden who was beautiful as she was 
nobly born. 

‘'She must be lovely of nature, too," he added 
with a stamp of foot that sent a clang along his 
heavy Roman armor, “for the bride of Clovis 
is to be all that is desirable in woman." 

The Christian looked at him in silence for a 
minute, then slowly shook his head. 

“There be many damsels of high virtue and 
birth in the broad realm of Gaul," he replied, 
“but very few among them are surpassing 
fair." 

“Lily-fair must she be," came the impulsive 
answer. “You have been to many courts to 
jabber about this God of yours you say doth 
such marvelous things. Have you found no¬ 
where a princess such as I describe?" 

The old man looked through the open door¬ 
way to where the slow-moving Scheldt shim- 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 5 

mered like billows of molten copper in the 
afternoon sunlight, and his lips curved in a 
smile as a picture unrolled before his eyes. It 
was a pleasant picture, for the question of 
Clovis had awakened a memory of a day 
when, at the court of a western king, he had 
told the story of the Christ-child, and a girl 
whose eyes were like the petals of some rare 
blue lily had said to him, ^T want to hear 
it again, father.’’ 

He had repeated the tale to her many times 
afterward, and always she had listened with 
such eagerness in her face that her golden 
hair seemed like a halo framing the face of an 
angel. So he spoke in this wise to the Frank: 

“There is Lady Clotilda of Burgundy, King 
Chilperic’s young daughter, who has eyes 
of turquoise and a heart of gold. I am not 
alone in counting her beautiful, for my scribe 
Aurelien has beheld her many times, and 
always he speaks of her as the Lily Maid of 
Burgundy.” 

“Then her will I marry,” the young mon¬ 
arch declared boldly, “and Lily of the Merovin¬ 
gians shall she be.” 

Merovingian was the name of the ancestral 
house of Clovis, because his grandfather. 


6 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

Merwig, was the chieftain under whom the 
Franks were first united. 

Remi moved close to where the young king 
stood, the golden lark on his helmet that was 
the symbol of a Gallic legion an ancestor had 
commanded held proudly erect, and not a whit 
brighter than the long blond braids tumbling 
down over his cuirass, that were oiled each 
night as carefully as his armor was burnished. 

''Be not over-sure about winning the lass,’’ 
the missionary suggested, "for yesterday there 
passed this way emissaries of Alaric the 
Visgoth, who said they fared to Burgundy to 
ask the hand of the Lady Clotilda for their 
king. ’T is said he may wed if he chooses a 
no less exalted damsel than the daughter of 
King Theodoric of the Eastern Goths, but he 
looks with favor upon Chilperic’s child be¬ 
cause of her bonny face and ways.” 

Clovis struck his battle-ax against the wall 
to show his disapproval. 

"A dead Alaric will he be if he seeks to take 
this maid,” he exclaimed, "for I shall surely 
slay whoever stands between my desires and 
me. Mighty he may seem among his own 
men, but he counts for naught at all do I oppose 
him. Therefore despatch this scribe of yours 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 7 

to Burgundy and get consent of the damsel 
herself/’ 

The man looked at the boastful youth with 
mingled affection and dismay. He had come 
to know the tender side of the Frankish chief, 
and to love him for his many good qualities. 
But he knew also how merciless and revenge¬ 
ful he could be, and that thought made his 
heart ache. His eyes seemed to say, ‘‘Ah, 
Clovis, what a power thou mightest be for 
the true God if thou wouldst forsake thy 
heathen ways and talk not of slaying whoever 
displeases thee!” 

But his lips spoke: “To fare to Burgundy 
for Clotilda’s consent would be a fruitless 
journey, since the lady abides not there now. 
Know you not that when Gundobald, her 
uncle, seized the throne, he exiled her to Hel¬ 
vetia, because she was so dear to the people he 
dared not murder her as he had murdered her 
father, while with her in another land he might 
reign in her stead as regent? Therefore it 
is in Geneva you must seek her. But Clovis,” 
the gray-haired apostle continued solemnly, 
“you must know that this princess you would 
marry is a Christian and will not look with 
favor upon your heathen ways.” 


8 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

The silver-helmeted sovereign flashed a smile 
at him. 

''Naught care I about her creed, or that she 
loves not mine, for we shall both pray to our 
own gods in the future even as we pray now. 
But this lily maid who is beautiful as she is 
noble shall surely be queen of the Salian Franks. 
So despatch Aurelian Genevaward to-night 
and at the border road one of my chiefs will 
join him. I count not missionaries and scribes 
over-good judges of the fairness of women, 
and will therefore send along a youth whose 
taste is like unto my own. If he deems 
Clotilda lovely, lovely will she seem to me, and 
then she shall receive my royal message. Nor 
will she scorn to wed me because I worship 
Beltane, "he added with proud confidence, 
"for all Gaul knows that my equal for power 
and possessions is not to be found west of the 
Alps.’’ 

Splendidly erect he strode away, and Remi 
looked after him wistfully, smiling, and at the 
same time sighing as he thought of all that 
was good and bad in him. 

That night when moonbeams lapped the 
royal halls at Tornacum—the Tournai of our 





“This Lily Maid who is as beautiful as she is noble” 





















LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 9 

day—the scribe of the missionary set forth, 
and at the border road a helmeted chieftain 
joined him. Like Clovis, he too was stalwart 
and supple, with long blond braids as bright 
as those of his chief. He had a merry speech 
and way that brought many a peal of laughter 
from the scribe. Sometimes when they rested 
on a hill-crest, or stopped by the side of a 
stream to eat of the nuts and dried boar’s flesh 
they carried with them, he would tell a yarn of 
soldiering, and with a ready flow of words 
paint so glowingly the battle or banquet scene 
of which he spoke that Aurelian seemed to be 
living through it. Once the latter said to him, 
‘What sad pity’t is that you be a heathen chief, 
when with your tongue and manner you might 
become a prince of missionaries.” 

Loudly the Frank laughed then, and told 
how his comrades would shout at hearing him 
pictured as another Remi. 

“But well they know that day will never 
be,” he added, “for men of my measure seek 
not a God who decries the things that are good 
in the eyes of Beltane. Our Druid faith 
stays, ‘Only battle is glorious,’ while Remi 
prates to me, ‘Lay down your ax.’ Nay, nay,” 


lo GIRLHOOD STORIES 

he went on in a voice growing loud with ear¬ 
nestness, ‘'never will we Franks serve one who 
says fighting is ignoble/^ 

“Yet strange things come to pass some¬ 
times,’' Aurelian suggested. 

“Aye,” the chief agreed, “but not so strange 
as that.” 

They journeyed together through pleasant 
valleys, up slopes bright with grain and pasture 
lands, and into the silence of the Alps. Three 
weeks of travel brought them to Geneva, where 
the Princess Clotilda dwelt. There, when 
driven from her own land by the usurping 
uncle who ruled in her stead, she had taken 
refuge in a convent school, the only shelter 
open in those days to girls and women who 
would be dangerous persons in a household 
because of political enemies who wanted them 
out of the way. And there Aurelian and his 
companion saw her at twilight-time, standing 
beside the convent gate distributing alms to 
beggars. 

“By the sword of Merwig, but she is a flaw¬ 
less lass!” the Frank exclaimed, as he watched 
her bending over the basket. “Say to her that 
Clovis will have her to wife, for he may search 
throughout Gaul and not find another so fair.” 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS ii 

The scribe followed his bidding, but when 
he spoke to Clotilda she stared in a bewildered 
way. 

‘Tn rank and prowess the equal of the king 
of the Salian Franks is not to be found,’’ he 
added, as if to urge his suit. 

The princess nodded. 

‘‘That is very clear to me,” she returned 
gently, “but what manner of man Clovis may 
be I know not. There are those who declare 
he is fierce of heart and evil of face, both of 
which are things for which I have no liking. 
Besides, he is a heathen.” 

“Fierce he is upon the battle-field,” the eager 
chief broke in, “but gentle as a sheep would he 
be to you. And what matters it if his creed 
is that of Beltane, so long as he lets you keep 
your own? Those who hate him do say he 
is evil of face, but there be some so bold as to 
declare he is comely. You may judge of that 
for yourself,” he added boyishly, “for in looks 
and manner he is much akin to me.” 

Clotilda glanced shyly at the armor-clad 
youth before her, his long braids like golden 
ropes against the silver of his helmet. She 
thought his eyes both kind and gentle, and she 
liked the gleam of humor in them. 


12 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 

‘T have beheld more hideous folk/’ she 
remarked, with a smile. Then she added, 
''Will you tell me your name, since you be the 
king’s boon friend?” 

"Certes,” the Frank returned gallantly. 
"Many titles I possess by word of my father 
and mother given to Beltane, but from now 
on I shall claim still another. Henceforth I 
am to be called Fortunatus, since it hath been 
my golden opportunity to gaze upon thee.” 

The girl flushed. 

"You are bold. Sir Fortunatus,” she replied, 
and turned again to her task of giving alms. 

"Wilt vouchsafe no reply?” the young 
chief questioned anxiously. 

Clotilda laughed and exclaimed: 

"Mayhap to-morrow, mayhap not at all, for 
there be many things to perplex a maid in the 
matter of choosing a husband. Ever at night, 
when the garden turns into a place of stalking 
shadows, I watch for the star of hope that 
answers my questions about divers things. It 
is up there in the sky,” she explained as she 
pointed to where feather-white clouds were 
pillowed along the crest of the southern 
mountains; "and mayhap wise men know it 
by another name. But to me it is always the 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 13 

hope star, for whenever it gleams down into the 
heart of the pool and makes another star there, 
it proves to be my good omen. Should it dip 
there to-night I shall know happiness lieth for 
me with this king of yours, and then will I 
say, 'Bid him come and seek me.’ ” 

Aurelian thanked her with the gentle manner 
one might expect from the scribe of a mis¬ 
sionary, and suggested to Fortunatus that they 
seek shelter for the night at the hospice by the 
city gate and come again on the morrow for 
the answer. But the Frank voiced objection. 

“Wilt lie abed when word of high import for 
our king is for your getting? Go to the 
hospice and snore the night away if you will, 
but I climb the tree that smothers the garden 
wall to see whether or not the pool catches the 
star.” 

According to his word the chief took 
position above the wall. Aurelian went with 
him, for when the scribe knew the mind of 
his companion he had no desire to sleep. 

Through the silence of the Helvetian night 
unnumbered stars gleamed like flowers in a 
magic garden, and one sent its reflection into 
the very heart of the pool. "He says Clovis 
is like unto himself,” a girl murmured wistfully 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


14 

at that very same moment, ^'and to mine eyes he 
seemeth all a man should be/' 

It was Clotilda watching by the window 
for what she called her good omen; while in a 
tent of greenery above the garden wall a youth 
exclaimed, Verily the hope star washeth its 
face in the pool! I see that we bear good 
tidings homeward." 

The blue and silver of an Alpine dawn en¬ 
veloped Geneva, and in its radiance the scribe 
and the chief set forth another time. Clovis 
had made it clear that if Clotilda gave ear to 
his suit, Aurelian was to speed to Chalon-sur- 
Saone, where the usurping regent of Burgundy 
was then holding court, formally to ask for 
the princess's hand. Fortunatus was to return 
to Tornacum. So, just beyond the city wall 
they separated, the Frank taking the road to 
the west while Aurelian journeyed northward. 

Now Gundobald, who knew the marriage 
of his niece to a great chief would break his 
own wickedly gained power, had no desire that 
she take a husband of the might of Clovis. 
But he feared to anger the ruler of the Franks 
with a refusal. Therefore he pretended to be 
delighted with the plea of the scribe, and gave 
consent. 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 15 

‘‘Say to your lord I would have him hasten 
here to greet his bride, for this day will I send 
runners to Geneva and recall her hence with 
all due despatch.’’ 

But even as he smiled and promised, he 
maliciously planned to get the Frankish mon¬ 
arch out of the way, and whispered to his 
companions in evil-doing about the wild country 
between Chalon and Tornacum, where bandits 
were known to have many fastnesses, and of 
how folk often went into the region who did 
not come back. 

“There be outlaws of two kinds,” he said 
to one of the malicious group he had gathered 
around him; “those who slay for themselves, 
and those who slay in the interests of another. 
A fat purse will suffice to put a knife into 
action and to silence any tongue that might 
wag itself in tattling. And who would be so 
bold as to blame Gundobald for the chance 
death of a traveling sovereign?” 

So he sent for a brigand leader and calmly 
negotiated for the death of the Frankish king. 

Aurelian bore to Tornacum the message the 
regent bade him take; and without delay Clovis, 
attended by a splendid train, set forth, dream¬ 
ing not at all that a death-trap had been set for 


i6 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

him, and thinking to sup the seventh night 
afterward at the banquet-tables of the Burgun¬ 
dians. But in a ravine where a road crept be¬ 
tween a cliff and a cavern, a score of knaves 
with knives set upon the party, and but for the 
quick action of the king his retinue would 
have been killed, they being unprepared for 
attack. In the thick of the fight the wolfskin 
robe of one of the bandit leaders was torn 
away, and under it gleamed the uniform of a 
captain of the Burgundian lancers. Several 
others, too, were found to be officers in the 
forces of Gundobald. Then Clovis realized the 
treachery of the regent. 

“Delay behooves us not now,” he remarked 
to Aurelian, who was of the train. “If 
Gundobald seeks to slay me because I would 
wed his niece, he will not scruple to get her 
beyond my reach. Therefore, speed you to 
Geneva and fetch the maid to Tornacum.” 

“Do I fare there alone?” the fellow asked, 
with a show of alarm. 

“Nay,” the king answered, with a smile. 
“The same Fortunatus who went before will 
bear you company again. Attended by such 
train as is fit escort for a future queen of the 
Franks, he will await you at dawn to-morrow.” 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 17 

Accordingly Aurelian betook him eastward, 
while Clovis and the others made haste to re¬ 
turn to Tornacum. 

The story of all that happened as the com¬ 
pany trudged up through the Helvetian passes 
to Geneva and down again with Lady Clotilda 
is a long, long tale. It is a story of more than 
one battle with those who struck from ambush, 
or who, with murderous intent, broke upon the 
camp made by night in some sheltered river- 
bottom or ravine; for the malice of Gundobald 
followed the travelers steadily and overtook 
them when they believed they had escaped it. 
Once, as the cart that bore the princess forded 
the upper course of the Rhone, an arrow from 
a willow thicket struck the flank of one of the 
oxen that drew it. The animals began plung¬ 
ing and kicking in the middle of the stream 
and overturned the vehicle. Clotilda was 
borne down by the raging current, and but for 
the swift, skilful swimming of Fortunatus, 
would have been drowned. Finally, however, 
after many days of journeying and rough ad¬ 
venture, they reached the safety of a valley in 
Clovis's own dominions, and another twelve 
hours of travel brought them to Tornacum. 

'‘Bespeed you now to Remi with word that 


i8 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

the bride of the king is come, and bid him make 
haste for the wedding,’’ Fortunatus remarked 
to Aurelian the very hour they arrived. 

‘'And bear word to Clovis, also,” Clotilda re¬ 
marked shyly, “for never yet was there a wed¬ 
ding that lacked a bridegroom.” 

Fortunatus bowed low. \ 

“The ruler of the Franks is already here,” 
he exclaimed in a voice that rang like a trumpet. 

Then the amazed Burgundian girl saw the 
soldiers around her give the salute to the king. 

“You Clovis?” she questioned like one dazed. 

“Aye,” came the gentle reply. “Did I not 
tell you at Geneva that in looks and manner 
we were akin?” 

Merrily his words flowed then as he re¬ 
counted how, in disguise, he had gone as one 
of his own chieftains to the mountain retreat 
where they had found Clotilda that he might 
see for himself whether or not she was the 
maid he wanted to take for his bride. 

“And while you watched your star of hope 
dip itself in the pool, I spied from a tree above 
the garden wall and knew your answer even as 
it formed in your heart.” 

So these two were married by the good mis¬ 
sionary—the Burgundian girl men said was 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 19 

lovely as a blossom, and Clovis, who was lov¬ 
able as he was fierce of heart. 

‘‘Lily of the Merovingians thou art now!’’ 
he exclaimed after the Christian spoke the 
words that united them. 

Whereupon the gray-haired apostle returned 
solemnly: “Aye, a lily in a hive. We shall 
see which is the mightier, the flower or the 
bee.” 

The standard of the Merovingian line was a 
golden bee, and the young king’s robes were 
studded with hundreds of these insects. By 
his speech Remi meant that time would tell 
whether the barbaric ways of the husband 
would harden the lily, or whether she would 
soften the fierceness in him that was like the 
sting of the bee. 

A year and two and three passed, and all the 
while the young king and queen reigned to¬ 
gether over the broad lands of the Frank. 
Happy was Clotilda because she loved her lord, 
but sad was she also sometimes because he kept 
steadfastly to the worship of his Druid Beltane. 

“Would you heed the voice of the true God,” 
she was wont to say to him, “you would know 
what comfort is.” 

Sometimes when she spoke thus the king 


20 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


would answer: ^'Why change my gods for 
yours when already I have all that I desire? 
Think you the one you serve would bring 
greater victories than are mine by the grace 
of Beltane?” 

'There be things greater than conquest, my 
lord,” Clotilda replied to him one day, and 
looked after him wistfully as he strode away 
with laughter on his face. 

Thus time winged on, and all the while Clovis 
was spreading the sway of his scepter. Tribe 
after tribe he subdued without tasting defeat, 
so that it was little wonder that he believed 
himself invincible, and Beltane a god that ful¬ 
filled all desires. But one day—it was in a 
fight against the Alemanni who dwelt between 
the Vosges and the Rhine, along beautiful Lake 
Constance—the tide turned against the Frank¬ 
ish chief. Hordes of his soldiers went down 
like wheat-stalks under a scythe, while others, 
terrorized, fled for safety to the mountains; 
and although he called again and again to 
Beltane it seemed the Druid deity was deaf. 
For the first time in his life the young sovereign 
experienced the bitterness of defeat. 

Suddenly then, like a gleam of light through 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 21 


the blackness of a cellar, the words of his queen 
flashed across his mind. 

^‘Would you but heed the voice of the true 
God, you would know what comfort is.’' 

Could that comfort come to him now? 
With all his mind and heart he wondered. 

Dropping on his knees, he shouted, to the 
wild amazement of his warriors, ^'Thou God 
of Clotilda, give victory to my arms, and for¬ 
ever after I and all my people will worship 
iThee! ” 

Then he led his forces into the fight again, 
and, strengthened by hope of help from the 
Christian God, the Franks rallied. By the 
fierceness of their attack the Alemanni were 
driven from the field. 

Came Christmas day a few months after¬ 
ward; and a day of marvelous joy it was for 
the queen and good Remi, for Clovis kept his 
word. On that anniversary of Christ’s birth, 
he and three thousand of his warriors were 
baptized in the name of Christianity. And to 
show to the world that he had changed his faith, 
he also changed his emblem. 

‘‘No longer shall a stinging bee be the symbol 
of the Merovingians,” he declared after his 


22 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

baptism, ‘'but a lily that is like the heart and 
face my sweet Clotilda brought me/’ 

He set upon his standard a golden flower of 
three petals that they called the fleur-de-lis, 
which for more than a thousand years was to 
wave upon the banners in the country over 
which he and his fathers had held sway, the 
land of song and sunshine we know as France. 

Clovis never became a gentleman as we inter¬ 
pret the word, for he came of a line of fierce 
chieftains and lived in an age when men were 
hard. Boastful, arrogant, and often brutal he 
remained to the end. But after his adoption 
of Christianity he softened greatly, and al¬ 
though history records some evil deeds of him, 
it records many gracious ones, also. 

Some say the change in him was all due to 
Clotilda, the sight of whose smile when he first 
beheld it at Geneva brought him such joy that 
he named himself Fortunatus. And Fortuna- 
tus he liked to be called until the day he died. 

It was the year of our Lord 496 that saw 
the baptism of the Frankish king and his sol¬ 
diers, more than fourteen centuries ago. But 
through all the time that has gone since then 
the idyll of Clotilda gleams as one of the sweet 


LILY OF THE MEROVINGIANS 23 

tales of history, the account of the Burgundian 
blossom who became the Lily of the Merovin¬ 
gians and brought her husband the Christian 
faith as part of her dower. 





( 





- -- --- . 





ARM OF IRON 







II 


ARM OF IRON 

J UDITH the Merry Heart was the favorite 
child of Charles the Bald, king of France 
and emperor of Rome. She was a golden¬ 
haired, gay-voiced maiden, and her blithe 
laughter, sounding through the castle halls at 
Senlis, was sweeter to the ears of her royal 
parent than any music made by minstrels at 
his court. She loved life and action, the dar¬ 
ing, romping games the young princes played, 
and was so expert at racing, climbing, and 
practising at tilts that her brothers, Charles, 
Raoul, and Pepin, regarded her as one of them¬ 
selves. 

The high-born dames who were ladies-in¬ 
waiting to the queen, her mother, arched their 
eyebrows in disapproval when they saw Judith 
leaping over the iris-beds in the garden, or 
chinning herself on one of the beams above 
the arbored walk, for in the ninth century 
daughters of the blood royal were expected to 

27 


28 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


keep within the castle and devote their time to 
tapestry weaving and learning how to swing a 
train and carry a coronet gracefully. But 
when they spoke to the king about her care¬ 
free ways he shook his head and answered: 
‘‘Let the Merry Heart alone to enjoy her child¬ 
hood. She is quick of head and, when the time 
comes for her to know them, will become versed 
speedily in court manners and the weaving 
arts.’' 

So Judith went on playing with her brothers, 
and the royal father would do nothing whatever 
about it, no matter how much the proud dames 
disapproved. 

Then something happened that shocked the 
court ladies even more than the princess’s 
romping ways. She came bounding into the 
castle hall one morning with glowing cheeks 
and flashing eyes, her long hair streaming out 
behind her like a golden flag. 

“I am learning to read and inscribe on parch¬ 
ment,” she exclaimed, as she hurried to where 
her father was talking to one of the nobles. 

Dame Isabeau Maringy, sitting close by with 
the queen, stared in open-mouthed amazement, 
while Clarinette de Courtant, mistress of the 
robes, who was just then exhibiting to her 


ARM OF IRON 


29 

Majesty a piece of cloth from the looms of 
Lyons, gave a loud exclamation. Even Queen 
Judith looked dumfounded, for although her 
life with Charles had held so many surprises 
as to prepare her for almost anything, she did 
not expect a daughter of hers to want to read 
and write like a common scribe. Such an at¬ 
tainment was regarded as being not within 
keeping of the dignity of a princess, for during 
the Dark Ages priests and monks in mon¬ 
asteries were the only ones who made books or 
read them, either, and kings and great lords 
hired scribes to take charge of their letters and 
documents and do what they did not know how 
to do for themselves. 

To Charles the Bald, this idea about learning 
being a vulgar thing seemed very foolish. 
When little more than a boy he made up his 
mind to be as wise as the monks and, with the 
aid of a scholarly priest, mastered the arts of 
reading and writing, so that when he came to 
the throne he was one of the few educated 
kings in Europe. It was an amazing thing to 
Queen Judith that he possessed such an ambi¬ 
tion. When he announced that he meant for 
his sons to know as much as he did, she was 
amazed still more. But now that little Judith 


30 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

craved a scribe’s lore, she was distressed. It 
was not only humiliating but dangerous, the 
mother thought, for she had heard that devil’s 
charms were sometimes contained in books and 
feared that knowing how to read and write 
would send her child to some terrible end. 

She spoke her objection to Charles, but he 
shook his head. 

‘^Knowledge will do her no harm,” he in¬ 
sisted, ^‘and much pleasure she will have out of 
it. But how,” he added, as he turned to the 
glowing-eyed girl beside him, ‘^can you learn 
to read and write without a teacher ?” 

‘T have three already,” Judith answered with 
a merry laugh. ‘T coaxed the boys to teach 
me, and they are good masters, too. We have 
just finished the first lesson, and I have learned 
much.” 

The court ladies looked straight over their 
noses, and Queen Judith threw up her hands in 
dismay. But Charles the Bald declared that 
though Judith had five, twenty, or fifty lessons, 
nobody should interfere. She might learn as 
much as she pleased, and that was the end of 
the matter. 

The young princes were glad of the decision 
of their father. They reasoned that since 


ARM OF IRON 31 

Judith could run as fast and climb as high as 
they could, she might be their companion in 
knowledge also, and the lessons went on from 
day to day. Every morning there was school 
in the hall or garden at which Charles, Raoul, 
and Pepin were masters and the gay-hearted 
sister the only pupil. All this was very annoy¬ 
ing to the queen and her ladies, but very 
amusing to the king when sometimes he came 
and listened to recitations. 

Judith worked as hard as she played. Be¬ 
fore a year had passed she could read and write 
better than her brothers. At fourteen, she was 
known throughout Europe as *‘the learned 
princess,’’ for there was not in any country a 
girl of her age who had mastered what she had. 
But to her father, the king and emperor, she 
was always the Merry Heart. The happiest 
of his busy and sometimes troubled hours were 
spent with her. 

One morning the two sat together in the 
pleasance, the great summer-house that stood 
in the loveliest part of the castle garden, looking 
at a volume that had just been sent to Charles 
by the monks of St. Gall. These men, among 
the most skilful book-makers in the world of 
their day, had prepared a group of chants for 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


32 

the king, and a beautiful tome it was, each 
character formed with skill and patience, each 
page edged with a border so gorgeously illu¬ 
minated it was a joy to the eye. Many months 
they had labored in their retreat high up on 
the shores of Lake Constance to make the 
volume a worthy example of the best book¬ 
making of the day and a worthy tribute to the 
monarch who loved learning. They had suc¬ 
ceeded so well that now as Charles bent over it 
pleasure brightened his eyes. 

'‘See,^’ he exclaimed, as he ran his finger 
along the line of gold that separated border 
from text, ‘‘did'st ever behold such perfect 
drawing, such beauty of color and gracefully 
transcribed words?’’ 

‘‘Nay,” Judith answered, “’t is so lovely me- 
thinks’t will be among the rarest treasures of 
the Frankish court.” 

Before the king could reply, an attendant ap¬ 
peared at the door of the pleasance and an¬ 
nounced that a messenger had come with word 
that the train of Ethelwulf, king of the West 
Saxons, would reach the castle within an hour. 

“His Majesty sends greetings and beseeches 
you to grant the boon he asked by courier a 
fortnight ago.” 


ARM OF IRON 


33 

Charles the Bald handed the volume to the 
princess and started for the castle. 

The lord of the north country comes on a 
mission of high importance,” he explained, 
^‘and I must haste to be in readiness to receive 
him. You, too, are to be attired as befits a 
daughter of the Carolingians when a stranger 
monarch comes to court, so get to your women 
and don the finest raiment your chests afford, 
for the visit of Ethelwulf affects your welfare 
as well as mine.” 

The Carolingians were the members of the 
line of royalty descended from Charlemagne, 
and prided themselves much upon having the 
blood of the great emperor in their veins. 

Judith took the volume under her arm and 
skipped along the flower-bordered avenue and 
through the wide portal into the castle. As 
she went she wondered in what way the coming 
of the Saxon king would affect her. 

Then, like a young wiseacre, she nodded as if 
certain she knew. 

‘They plan to form an alliance for strength 
in war-time,” she thought, “and whatever 
keeps France in safety doth certainly affect 
me.” 

It was as she imagined, but little did she 


34 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

dream how vitally that alliance was to touch her 
own life. 

The gate through which Ethelwulf, king of 
the Saxons, approached the seat of Charles the 
Bald was on the opposite side of the castle from 
the tower that held the apartments of Judith, 
and so she did not see the entry of the northern 
monarch, although she heard the blare of 
trumpets that heralded his arrival. 

‘'Get me prepared quickly,’^ she called to the 
maid who arranged her hair, “for I would fain 
be in the throne-room w'hen the strangers ar¬ 
rive and see what manner of person this Saxon 
king may be.” 

Then, as the waiting-woman fastened across 
her shoulders the cloth of gold robe she was to 
wear, she laughed merrily and added, “I ’ll 
wager he dresses in skins and looks the part of 
a savage, for in the diary of Paulo de Carnaire, 
who for five years labored as a missionary 
among the natives of Britain, I did read me 
that the Saxons be not as well schooled in man¬ 
ners as the Franks.” 

But as she descended the stairway into the 
hall from which there was a view of the throne- 
room she saw naught of the savage about the 


ARM OF IRON 


35 

northern king. The velvet and ermine robe 
he wore was as costly as the one that wrapped 
the body of her father, and there were both 
grace and gentleness in his manner as he an¬ 
swered Charles’s greeting. 

The young princes and a score of nobles in 
fine regalia were grouped around the guests, 
and Judith wished she might join the company, 
too. But the queen and her ladies had not yet 
appeared, and for all her tomboy ways she was 
well enough versed in court customs to know 
she must wait until summoned, no matter how 
high her curiosity concerning the visitors ran. 
In her sumptuous cloth of gold robe she could 
not go into the garden, and she hated waiting 
idly for the trumpet-call. Then she remem¬ 
bered the volume over which she and her father 
had been poring when word of the approach of 
Ethelwulf came and knew she could spend the 
intervening moments pleasantly, albeit she had 
to spend them indoors. 

‘T ’ll get me the tome the brothers of St. Gall 
did send,” she thought, as she hurried to the 
low-ceiled chamber that was the favorite re¬ 
treat of her father when he wanted to be alone 
with his books, and where she had left the 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


36 

volume as she hurried to her apartments. 

The gift was on the table where she had 
placed it, and she began looking again at the 
beautifully done pictures, words, and char¬ 
acters. She was so eager in her examination 
of the work of the monks that she did not see 
a child come to the door, a fair-haired, blue¬ 
eyed little fellow of about eight or nine. He 
moved close to where she sat and, when he 
caught a glimpse of the illuminated pages, gave 
a cry of delight. 

‘'A book!’’ he exclaimed, in a voice that was 
pleasant to hear. 'Tt is prettier even than the 
one mother gave me.’’ 

Judith looked up in astonishment. She 
never had seen the small speaker before. He 
was dressed in a style that was strange to her, 
which told he could not be the son of any lord 
at the Frankish court. How he came to be in 
the castle was a mystery. 

^Who are you?” she asked, as the eyes of the 
little stranger met her own. ‘'And how did you 
get here?” 

‘T am Alfred,” the new-comer answered, 
“and I came with father. He is Ethelwulf, 
king of the Saxons.” 

Then, going closer to the bright-colored 


ARM OF IRON 


37 

pages, he said in an appealing way, ‘Will you 
show me the pictures 

The princess nodded. 

“Did you say you have a book of your own?’’ 
she asked. 

“Yes, but it is not as nice as yours. A wise 
man brought it to mother, and she promised 
she would give it to whichever of us boys 
learned to read it first. Ethelred and Ethel- 
bert said the learning was too hard, and he 
would not try; and Ethelbald was busy with 
other things. Mother taught me the first page 
and said because I did well with it I might have 
the book. Then she died,” he added, a wistful 
look in his eyes, “and now I have nobody to 
teach me. But I look at the pictures very 
often.” 

Judith was a big-hearted, impulsive girl, and 
the yearning eyes of the motherless little fellow 
made her suddenly warm to him. Forgetting 
all about the costly robe she wore, she drew 
him to her side, outspread the vellum before 
him, and said: “I ’ll teach you to read. I can 
do it as well as anybody.” 

The child laughed delightedly. 

“I know some words already,” he said, point¬ 
ing here and there at the carefully drawn char- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


38 

acters. And as he moved his finger along the 
page Judith nodded when he gave the answer 
correctly, but spoke the right name when it was 
wrong. So the lesson began, and the young 
Saxon learned so quickly the princess decided 
teaching little boys was a very pleasant pas¬ 
time. It seemed no time at all until the trumpet 
signaled the entry of the ladies into the throne- 
room, and she had to hurry to greet the visitors. 

As Charles the Bald said when he and his 
daughter sat in the pleasance, the visit of the 
king of the Saxons affected the welfare of 
Judith as much as his own. In fact, it affected 
her more. The northern monarch had been 
left a widower a few months before and was 
casting about for a suitable bride to take the 
place of Queen Esburga, mother of little Alfred. 
As he went over the list of the princesses of 
Europe he could think of no alliance so pro¬ 
pitious to his country and himself as one with 
Judith; for it would be good in times of war¬ 
fare to have the support of the lord of France, 
and the princess, being a learned maiden, would 
be a fit guide for his young sons, whose mother 
had been one of the most scholarly persons of 
her time. Consequently, two weeks before, he 


ARM OF IRON 39 

hiad despatched a courier to Charles to ask for 
his daughter's hand and now had come himself 
to know the answer. 

It pleased his majesty of France to grant 
the northern monarch's request, and almost be¬ 
fore she knew what was happening Judith was 
betrothed to Ethelwulf and became a bride 
when not quite fifteen. She would rather have 
gone on with her life at Senlis, where there 
were romps with the boys and long, enjoyable 
hours with her father; but she had nothing to 
say about it. The custom of those days re¬ 
quired that princesses marry because of rea¬ 
sons of state, and, being the daughter of one of 
the mightiest sovereigns of Europe, she was 
too proud to complain about her fate. 

So the Merry Heart rode away from the 
place of her childhood to become queen in a 
land where everything was strange to her. 
Ethelwulf was kind, but he was old enough to 
be her father; and the girl who was still enough 
of a child so that she loved romping games 
above everything else wanted playfellows in¬ 
stead of a husband. There were times when 
life in Britain seemed unbearable, but she was 
helpless as a linnet in a cage, and had enough 


40 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


of the iron will of the Carolingian line from 
which she came to bear with dignity what she 
knew she must endure. 

One comfort the girl queen did find at the 
stranger court, however. That was the com¬ 
panionship of the king's five sons, three of 
whom were older than herself. Especially did 
she have joy in Alfred, youngest of the group. 
His sweet nature made him lovable. The fact 
that he was motherless touched her warm heart, 
and she tried to fill the void in his life that was 
left by the going of the woman who had been 
queen before her. All the time she could spare 
from court duties was given to her little step¬ 
son. The work of teaching him to read, which 
was begun on the day of his father's arrival at 
Senlis, went on regularly; and very often mes¬ 
sengers were despatched to France with orders 
to return with books for the young prince, 
learning being a rare thing in Britain in those 
days, when there was but one scholarly priest 
or monk to ten in Judith's native land. Thus 
she became teacher, comrade, and foster- 
mother to Alfred, and but for her joy in this 
charming child, her life as queen of the West 
Saxons would have been pitiful indeed. 

Two years passed, at the end of which King 


ARM OF IRON 


41 

Ethelwulf died. Then Judith looked longingly 
toward France and dreamed of returning there, 
but it was not to be. According to Saxon law, 
if a king died and left a widow she must marry 
his successor, unless that sovereign already had 
a wife. So, wi^h no more to say about the 
arrangement than she had had to say before, 
the daughter of Charles was wedded to Ethel- 
bald, Ethelwulf’s eldest son and successor, and 
reigned again as wife of a British monarch. 
Ethelbald was more nearly her own age than 
his father had been; but of all the five sons 
of Ethelwulf she liked him least, and, if possi¬ 
ble, her life with him was more distasteful than 
it had been with her first husband. The one 
bright spot in it was her devotion to Alfred and 
the companionship of her books. 

With the passing of another two years Ethel- 
bald died and was succeeded by Ethelbert, his 
brother. Fortunately for Judith, the young 
sovereign was married, and so she was free to 
follow her desire and return to France. She 
was still just a girl, not quite nineteen, beauti¬ 
ful, talented, and quivering with desire for the 
joy of life because of the years of youth she 
had missed. 

Now, it happened that in his realm of France, 


42 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

and in the Belgian provinces over which he held 
sway, Charles the Bald was hammering away 
at the Northmen. From the far shores of 
Scandinavia these sea-rovers had sallied some 
years before, ascending the great French rivers 
and plundering everything in their way. 
They sacked Bordeaux, Tours, Orleans, 
Nantes, Toulouse, and even Paris, and although 
several times they were beaten back, they had 
not been completely subdued. The king lived 
in deadly fear of them and one day summoned 
to his support chieftains throughout his 
possessions. 

'T would rid my realm forever of worry 
caused by these ocean-dogs,’' he spoke to the 
assembled leaders. ‘Tf ye strike with all the 
brawn ye do possess methinks we shall not need 
to strike again. Therefore gather together 
your followers and do the part of men toward 
clearing our land of the curse of the sailing 
scoundrels.” 

Among the chieftains attending the conclave 
was a Flemish warrior named Baldwin, in 
whose veins the blood of the ancient Nervians 
flowed. He was a forester of Flanders, which 
means he was of the line of tribal leaders who 


ARM OF IRON 


43 

were empowered by Charlemagne to govern in 
the name of the French king the people over 
whom they held sway. For almost seventy 
years these chiefs had been lords in the Belgian 
provinces almost with the power of sovereigns, 
and Baldwin, as head of the most powerful 
tribe, was mightiest of the group. He was 
fiery and youthful. He wore a suit of heavy 
iron armor which he discarded not even in days 
of peace, and because of this—and his courage 
—he was known far and wide as Bras de Fer, 
Arm of Iron. He was fearless as the wolves 
that howled in his native forest. A task that 
he once began he never left until it was finished, 
and his people followed him with the same 
fierce determination that characterized their 
chief. 

With France in the grip of the Northmen, 
the Forester now threw his whole mighty 
energy into the cause of delivering the country 
from the sea-wolves. A week after the con¬ 
clave at Senlis he met the Scandinavian chiefs 
in battle and dealt them such a blow that they 
feared to risk another. They signed a truce to 
give up fighting and become peaceful citizens 
in the land. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


44 

As was very natural, because of this service, 
the king prized Baldwin’s friendship greatly 
and invited him often to Senlis. 

One day—it was but a few weeks after 
Judith returned from Britain—Charles the 
Bald and the Forester were in deep converse 
in the council-hall. The former queen of the 
Saxons entered, in her eyes the glow of con¬ 
tent that had come of joy at being again in 
the home-land. 

As the king presented them Baldwin smiled 
at her as he had smiled at no woman before. 
The moment he saw the rippling hair and shin¬ 
ing eyes of the Carolingian girl he knew 
the time had come for him to take a wife. And 
as the princess smiled back at him she realized 
that here was a hero as splendid as any of her 
dreams. 

Baldwin stayed three days at the castle, then 
departed to return within a week. When he 
came back he told the king he craved the hand 
of Judith in marriage. 

Charles the Bald was a devoted father, but 
he was an ambitious sovereign, too. Twice al¬ 
ready his child had been the wife of a crowned 
king, and he had no notion of allowing her to 
become the bride of a forester who, no matter 


ARM OF IRON 45 

how brave and capable he might be, was but a 
tribal leader. He liked the idea of saying, 
daughter, the queen of So-and-so.’’ Therefore 
at this very moment he was negotiating a third 
marriage for this child of his with the king of 
Navarre. 

Consequently when Baldwin spoke his wish 
Charles the Bald shook his head. 

^^Nay,” he answered pompously, ‘^^dith is 
already promised to a lord beyond the 
Garonne.” 

But the eyes of the princess herself, as they 
looked into the eyes of the Forester, said very 
plainly, ''This thing shall not come to pass.” 

It did not come to pass, for Judith married 
Baldwin. Her royal father stormed and 
vowed he would certainly send the chief to his 
death. But Charles had a soft heart where his 
daughter was concerned, and his threat of de¬ 
struction finally surrendered to his deep love for 
her. Moreover, as he thought upon the ques¬ 
tion, he knew he could ill afford to lose the 
support of the fiery northerner, for well he 
realized that if word went forth that he and the 
forester were at enmity, the sea-rovers would 
break the truce and revolt. He forgave the 
Iron Arm. In order that he might be a hus- 


46 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

band of sufficient station for a descendant of 
Charlemagne, Charles knighted him, and Bald¬ 
win the Forester became Baldwin, count of 
Flanders, taking rank among the peers of 
France. The lands bestowed upon him by his 
father-in-law comprised all the territory be¬ 
tween the rivers Scheldt and Somme and the 
ocean, almost the whole of what is now Belgium 
and a corner of northern and western France. 

Northward, through the fragrant woods of 
Flanders, rode Baldwin and his bride, establish¬ 
ing a residence of what to-day is known as 
Bruges. Here he built a fortress with thick 
walls and four strong gates, a church and a 
ghiselhuis, or prison, for the safe-keeping of 
hostages and any marauders who might need 
to be confined. And here he and Judith dwelt 
happily for many years. 

Not free from strife were those years, for al¬ 
though the Northmen within the French and 
Belgian borders kept the truce others swooped 
down from the far white seas, and very often 
the prows of their barkantines pierced the 
dunes along the shore. But whenever the 
rovers swept landward, Baldwin and his 
Flemish vassals hurled them back. 

As Bras de Fer, Arm of Iron, he was still 


ARM OF IRON 47 

known by both friends and foes, who declared 
that even as he was strong in warfare, he was 
strong in peace, and because of the firm yet 
generous and wise way in which he governed 
his people he merited the title. But when any 
one spoke to him concerning it he declared: 
“ ’T is Judith who is the real strength, the Iron 
Arm. But for her courage and words of wis¬ 
dom I would be a poor chief at best.’’ 

Much truth was in those words, for no matter 
what discouragement came to him, the merry 
heart, high spirit, and devotion of the Carolin- 
gian princess who was his wife gave him re¬ 
newed courage to meet it. ‘^To go back to her 
and the children,” he often said to his soldiers, 
‘‘is to make me forget the most bitterly fought 
campaign.” 

Three children in all were born to these two, 
and each inherited in full measure the courage, 
charm, and graciousness of the parents. 

Westward in the land of Britain the boy Al¬ 
fred had become King Alfred and ruled his 
land so well that to this day the world knows 
him as Alfred the Great. He drove out the 
Danes when they overswept his territory. He 
built schools and monasteries and invited 
scholars to his court, for he was himself, thanks 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


48 

to the devotion of Judith during his early years, 
one of the greatest scholars of his day, and de¬ 
lighted in the companionship of wise men. He 
translated into Saxon the “Ecclesiastical His¬ 
tory” of the Venerable Bede, corrected several 
translations from the Latin that had been done 
by men of less learning than himself and not 
done well, and strove in every way to lift his 
subjects out of the darkness of ignorance into 
the light of knowledge. His people loved him 
even as Judith had loved him when a child, for 
his kindly nature and gentle manners he kept 
until the end. Sometimes, when the seasons 
made voyages possible, he despatched to 
Flanders books he had made himself, or that 
were the work of the wise men who surrounded 
him, for gifts to his “best friend and second 
mother,” as he called Judith. And Judith sent 
back to him volumes that she loved, beautifully 
inscribed tomes out of her own collection or 
that of her learned father. Then, as the 
daughter of Charles the Bald reached the 
Indian summer of her life, a culminating link 
in the chain of affection that united these two 
was formed, for her son took as his bride 
Elstrud, daughter of Alfred, and this, if such 
thing were possible, strengthened a friendship 


ARM OF IRON 


49 

that had remained deep and binding throughout 
many years. 

Every day of glory has its close, and there 
came a time when the happy reign of the prin¬ 
cess and the Forester ended. Bras de Fer went 
to his final rest; and the white-haired Judith, 
who had been the Merry Heart of other days, 
followed him there, leaving their son and name¬ 
sake to succeed to his titles and rule over the 
country. Through the children of this son and 
Elstrud, daughter of Alfred, the blood of 
Saxon, Carolingian, and ancient Nervian went 
down the Flemish royal line. It descended to 
Godfrey of Bouillon, one of the first and most 
glorious of the crusaders. It coursed in the 
veins of Philippa, the princess who became 
queen of Edward the First of England, the 
friend and benefactor of Froissart and Geof¬ 
frey Chaucer, and glowed in the cheek of the 
ill-fated girl sovereign, Jacqueline. And to¬ 
day it runs through the Belgian royal line, 
blended with the blood of many another lin¬ 
eage, but still possessing the ancient, dauntless 
attributes. 

Bruges, the city Bras de Fer founded, be¬ 
came during the Middle Ages one of the most 
splendid capitals on earth. Enriched by the 


so GIRLHOOD STORIES 

craftsmanship of her weavers, and blessed with 
a port in which as many as a hundred ships 
could anchor at one time, she grew to such 
magnificence that the entire western world 
spoke of her as the Venice of the North. 
Bruges la Belle—the Beautiful—men called 
her; and she was Bruges the Powerful, too, for 
galleons flew her standard on every sea. 

But the ocean, which in the beginning made 
her mighty, eventually destroyed her matchless 
commerce. Sands choked up her harbor, and 
because vessels could no longer get up to her 
docks they sailed to other ports. She came to 
be Bruges la Mort—the Dead. And dead she 
is compared with the marvelous olden days, al¬ 
though her palaces, churches, and cloth-halls 
are still a joy to the eye, as noble in the majesty 
of decay as they were in their day of power. 

Of the stronghold where Bras de Fer lived 
so happily with Judith there is not to be seen 
a trace. Two centuries after the Forester 
erected it the prison and hostage-house gave 
way to the Hotel de Ville, or Town-Hall. On 
the site of the church is a grove of chestnut- 
trees, beneath which, on summer days, flower- 
sellers swing their baskets and, between pinning 
nosegays on purchasers and counting coppers. 


ARM OF IRON 51 

tell of how their fathers laid the first rude foun¬ 
dations of the City of Cloth and Lace, of how 
the first Baldwin fought the Northmen in the 
French forest and Flemish morass, driving 
them back whenever they assailed him, and sur¬ 
rendering only to Judith, the merry-hearted 
daughter of Charles the Bald. 















THE GOLDEN DAWN 






Ill 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 

S HE stood at a tower window of the ancient 
castle of Prague, a girl with hair the color 
of corn-silk and eyes that were like blue flowers 
as they watched a cloud of dust sweep toward 
her. A mighty cloud it was, high and swift¬ 
rolling, as if whisked into being by the hoofs 
of countless steeds. As it came steadily nearer 
she could distinguish the helmets of cavaliers, 
scores of them, riding five abreast, the sun 
glinting on their burnished armor until it hurt 
her eyes. 

In the street below hundreds of people 
watched, too, peasants in from the country and 
tradesfolk away from their shops for the day, 
laughing, chattering, throbbing with excite¬ 
ment over the thought of what was about to 
occur. And as with the proud bearing of 
sovereigns the cavalcade approached the castle 
gate, the eager crowd rushed forward to meet 
55 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


56 

it, waving pennants, clapping hands, and sing¬ 
ing the holiday songs of old Bohemia. 

Dragomir at her window wished she, too, 
might go to meet the train of knights, because 
to her their coming meant a thousand times 
more than to any of the street-throng. But 
she was the only child of Bohemians loved 
sovereign, Ottocar, and kings’ daughters do not 
surge along with the populace, no matter how 
much they may long to have a share in the 
people’s merry ways. 

"'Look, Lubiska!” she exclaimed to a woman 
who stood beside her. "Didst ever see a knight 
sit more grandly in his saddle than the center 
of the five who lead the van? I wonder if 
Valdemar is anything like him?” 

Lubiska, the faithful nurse, made answer: 

" ’T is said his majesty of Denmark is the 
handsomest sovereign in all Europe, and his 
deeds proclaim that he has a heart of gold.” 

But Dragomir felt more fearful than joyous 
as she thought about it. The cavaliers whose 
steeds were champing that very moment along 
the streets of Prague had come to ask the hand 
of Bohemia’s princess royal in marriage to the 
young king of Denmark, and what girl 
would n’t be fearful about wedding a man she 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 57 

never had seen? He might be the handsomest 
sovereign in Europe and yet far from good to 
look upon, she thought, because, excepting her 
own splendid father, the kings she had seen had 
been an unpleasant lot. 

What if the story that Valdemar’s kindliness 
and sincerity were quite as great as his beauty 
and knightly bearing should prove false? 
What if he should prove ugly and warped of 
mind and soul, and yet affairs of state require 
that she marry him ? 

She did not have long to wonder about it, 
for just then a servant came to the door. 

‘'His majesty, your father, commands that 
you appear in the throne-room when the clarion 
sounds.’^ 

Appear in the throne-room! That meant 
the matter was settled. Her father had given 
ear to Valdemar’s suit, and in a few weeks— 
a few days, perhaps—she would have to leave 
the land of her childhood, all the dear, familiar 
faces that had been part of her life in Prague, 
and go to a country where the people, the cus¬ 
toms, and even the language were strange, 
there to become the bride of a man she never 
had seen. It was with a queer pounding of her 
heart that she bade the servant bear word to 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


58 

her father she would obey the summons. Then 
she turned to Lubiska to have her curls ar¬ 
ranged in a golden coronet, as befitted a sover¬ 
eign’s daughter on her betrothal day. 

Suddenly through the echoing corridors rang 
the blare of silver trumpets, the clarion that in 
those days was the signal of kings. With a 
good-by kiss to Lubiska, Dragomir hurried to 
the antechamber where already her maidens 
waited, the six fairest and most nobly born 
girls in all Bohemia, chosen because of their 
rank and beauty to be ladies in waiting to the 
princess royal. But she was a lass of such 
simple tastes and gentle ways that she never 
regarded them as attendants. They were the 
comrades who made merry her joyful hours 
and shared the confidences of her sorrowful 
ones, just as girls of to-day share one another’s 
confidences. And as they moved along beside 
her on this day of days, the wish of each girlish 
heart was that all the joy a maid can desire 
should be in store for her as queen of Denmark. 

^^Something tells me he is a debonair person, 
this Valdemar who is to be thy lord,” Sonia 
Chevenski said in an effort to cheer her. 

Dragomir turned her gentle eyes upon her 
friend. 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 


59 

‘Tray that he’s true of heart and fair- 
minded,” she answered in a low voice, “even 
though he be not a god in form and face.” 

Then, remembering she was Ottocar’s child, 
she lifted her head proudly and went forward 
determined to meet with courage whatever 
might come to her. 

As the train of the princess moved into the 
great ceremonial hall, there advanced to meet 
it a knight of truly splendid face and figure. 
It was Sir Strange Ebbeson, the one about 
whose kingly bearing she had remarked to 
Lubiska a few moments before. He was the 
emissary of Valdemar, which meant he was the 
proxy sent by the Danish ruler to ask the hand 
of the princess and speak the betrothal words 
in his stead, it being deemed not in keeping 
with the dignity of a monarch for him to go 
and press the suit himself. As this chivalrous 
Dane bent knee in greeting, Dragomir could 
not conceal her curiosity concerning his sov¬ 
ereign. So she said with a shy smile, “Tell 
me, is Valdemar like thee?” 

The cavalier’s eyes twinkled at her question. 

“Like me?” he returned with merry good 
humor. Then right gallantly he added: “As 
commonplace as the goose beside the swan am I 


6o 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


beside my king. Methinks a man of nobler 
soul is not to be found in any land.’’ 

The speech of the loyal knight cheered the 
princess much, for Sir Strange was a man no 
maid would fear. 

''Then forsooth he must be most pleasing,” 
she answered, and went on to where her father 
sat. 

A fortnight passed. Then one morning 
heralds went up and down the streets of Prague 
proclaiming that at noon that day Dragomir 
and her maidens would depart with the Danish 
cavaliers for the land of Valdemar. To her 
father, great-souled Ottocar, it was a day of 
heartbreak, for he loved this child of his above 
everything else on earth, and now that she was 
going to a stranger country, he hoped with all 
his heart she would go to happiness. And 
much as he wanted her to be happy, he desired 
her to keep the sunny, unspoiled nature that 
had made her the joy of Bohemia’s court, the 
idol alike of peasants in the highway and 
haughty lords and ladies. Therefore when he 
bade her good-by, he spoke this charge to her: 

‘'In piety, virtue, and fear of God 
Let all thy days be spent; 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 6i 

And ever thy subjects be thy thought, 

Their hopes on thy care be bent/* 

Drag’omir bent her fair head and made a vow 
ever to bear those words in memory. Then, 
mounting her palfrey, she rode away toward 
the place of embarkation, followed by the 
fluttering of a hundred thousand pennants, the 
cheers, the smiles, and tears of all who loved 
her. 

‘'Her going is like the setting of the sun 
that leaves darkness where beauty has been,’’ 
King Ottocar thought sadly as he watched her 
depart with the Danish knights. 

And tens of thousands of others in that 
land of Bohemia felt as he did. 

Across the gray waves of the Baltic they 
sailed, past Riigen, up through Kiel Bay and 
the Little Belt, into the Cattegat and down the 
Skager Rack until they came to Ribe. This 
was Denmark’s capital in those days, although 
now it is just an unimportant town. There, 
on the shifting sea-shore. King Valdemar 
awaited his bride. When the vessel reached 
the harbor and the young ruler strode toward 
her, a thrill of satisfaction went through the 
heart of the Bohemian girl. 


62 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


‘‘As the goose beside the swan/’ Sir Strange 
had spoken when she asked if he were like his 
sovereign. Now, as she glimpsed that sover¬ 
eign’s countenance and manner she knew the 
man had spoken the truth. 

“Dragomir they called thee in Bohemia,” 
the young monarch said as the vessel moored 
and he greeted his queen that was to be; “but 
to me thou art Dagmar, the golden dawn, the 
beginning of a new and beautiful morning in 
my life.” 

“ ’T is a sweet name, sire,” the princess 
answered with the smile and grace of manner 
that were so much a part of her; “and since 
it is of thy chosing right joyfully will I bear it.” 

So Dagmar King Valdemar called her, be¬ 
cause in the ancient Danish tongue that word 
means daybreak; and when she was crowned 
queen of Denmark she left behind forever the 
name she had borne in Prague. But she kept 
the grace of soul and the sweet, shy ways that 
had made her the flower of the Eastern capital, 
and as the coronet was placed upon her head she 
thought of the parting charge of her father 
and the vow she had taken to be true to it. 

It was the beginning of a very beautiful 
story, for Queen Dagmar kept her vow. So, 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 63 

to the people, as well as to the king, it seemed 
that a new and glorious day had dawned for 
them. From the moment of her marriage she 
thought above everything else of the welfare 
of her subjects, and as her wedding gift she 
gave to the tillers of the soil a happier lot than 
they had dreamed of knowing. 

It came about in this way: 

In Denmark, as in most countries of the 
northland, there was a law in those days by 
which the bride of a king was privileged to 
ask for any gift she chose. No matter what 
the request might be, it was granted, and some¬ 
times both ruler and country fared sadly be¬ 
cause of it. Queens had come and gone who 
had demanded as a marriage portion a casket 
of jewels, a palace with gold and silver 
ornaments bedecking each hall and room, a 
fleet of ships, or even a province. But Dagmar 
pleaded for none of these. When Valdemar 
told her to name the wish of her heart, she 
looked at him with deep longing in her eyes. 

‘T pray that the plow tax be forgiven the 
peasant, my lord, and that those in irons for 
rising against it be set free.” 

The plow tax was license money that, accordr 
ing to the ancient law, the country folk were 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


64 

required to pay for the privilege of tilling the 
soil. Since they earned very little even under 
the best conditions, the payment of it made 
their lives hard indeed. It was such a terrible 
thing to them that often some of the bolder 
ones rebelled against the law and refused to 
turn over the taxes. But they only suffered 
the more because of their action, for then they 
were shut up in prison or were put into irons 
and forced to work, dragging heavy chains. 
It was of the sad plight of these people that 
Dagmar thought, and the only wedding gift 
she craved was relief for these unfortunate 
ones from the unjust law. 

King Valdemar granted the request, and as 
fast as the tongues and feet of men could speed 
a message, the glad news went by courier from 
province to province. Never had such re¬ 
joicing been known among the lowly folk as 
when the prison doors were opened to free 
those who had rebelled against the plow tax 
and it became known that never again would 
it bring them misery. Some of them declared 
Dagmar was a saint, and from the Skager 
Rack to Kiel Bay the whole country sang the 
praise of the lovely young queen: 



“I pray that the plow-tax he forgiven the peasant, and those 

irons be set free” 


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X.- 




THE GOLDEN DAWN 65 

Who came without burden, came with peace, 

Came the good peasant to cheer. 

Joyfully passed the months for the Bohemian 
girl who was queen of the Danes, for she 
believed the king to be not only the handsomest 
ruler in Europe but, excepting her father, the 
bravest and best man in the world. In their 
devotion to each other, the life of this royal 
pair was a beautiful idyl. And never was a 
queen more beloved of her people than this one 
who had now been named Dagmar. 

Yet with it all she was just a glad-hearted 
girl, as different from a haughty sovereign 
as midday differs from twilight. 

She loved merriment, action, and all the 
things girls love. And lustily the people 
cheered when, almost every morning, she went 
galloping along the streets of Ribe and into 
the royal hunting-preserves on Lubluck, her 
favorite charger; for she was a true daughter 
of Bohemia, and an open road and a horse’s 
back meant the joy of life to her. No steed 
was so fiery or so vicious she could not handle 
him, and without fear she mounted horses that 
only the bravest knights would attempt to ride. 


66 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


It was her delight to speed forth unattended, 
without any of the grooms following that in 
those days were always at hand when women 
of high degree went forth on horseback. 

“I need not their help in managing Lubluck,’’ 
she said when Valdemar suggested she should 
have escort, ^^and who among the people will 
harm me? Grooms are for those who fear 
danger. I do not. Therefore let them go 
with somebody else.’’ 

So he let her ride alone as she desired, and 
wherever she rode smiles and loving words 
greeted her. 

There came a day when joyful tidings went 
among the people of Denmark. The bells 
of the royal castle proclaimed that a son 
was born to Dagmar and Valdemar, a boy who 
some time would rule over the land as king. 

^'Dagmar’s child!” the glad peasants ex¬ 
claimed when they received the message, for 
although they loved Valdemar, they loved 
even more the great-hearted queen whose plead¬ 
ing had annulled taxes and opened prison doors. 
They took from their scanty savings coins with 
which to buy a gift for the babe, and for the 
mother whose coming had meant so much to 
them. 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 67 

Now it happened, in the time when Valdemar 
reigned, that kings often had to be away from 
home for many weeks, because, there being 
no railroads, they could not travel speedily, 
yet visits must be made at least once a year 
to the chief town of every province. Valdemar 
went more often than that, because he believed 
that in order to rule his realm wisely a king 
must get close to the people. So several times 
each month he rode with his attendants out 
from the gates of Ribe to learn at first hand 
the desires and needs of his subjects. 

One day—it was in the spring of the year, 
the very early spring that in lands like 
Denmark is a thawing time, when ice-bound 
rivers spring to life and begin leaping and flow¬ 
ing; when green turf peeps from under white 
snow-cushions, and flower-petals begin un¬ 
folding along what have been frozen wastes— 
King Valdemar had gone to a distant part of 
the country, to the castle of .Skanderborg, from 
which he might visit a hundred villages and 
see the people as he wanted to know them. 
Dagmar stayed at Ribe with her maidens and 
her small son. And because she loved the 
awakening of nature that April brought, 
she chose to ride abroad and drink in the 


68 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

fragrance of the freshly thawed earth. She 
summoned a groom to fetch Lubluck and, 
mounting him, galloped through the park 
that encircled the castle and on past fields 
where the plows of peasants were turning up 
the earth and preparing it for sowing. They 
cheered as she dashed by and waved to them, 
cheered from the depths of hearts made happy 
by the sweet spirit of the young queen. 

‘'Ah,’' she thought, as she kissed her hand 
in answer to their greeting, “happy indeed am 
I with all hearts in Denmark loving me.” 

Suddenly, without a move of warning, 
Lubluck shied and plunged into the air. Had 
not Dagmar been a matchless horsewoman 
he would have thrown her to the ground. But 
the agile daughter of Bohemia, accustomed 
from babyhood to unexpected moves of a 
mount, quieted the fiery creature and set about 
finding the cause of his sudden fright. 

It did not require any searching. Ex¬ 
tending from under some bushes at the side of 
the road was the head of a man, a white-faced, 
silent figure stretched there like one dead. 

With a low cry she sprang from her horse 
and ran to him, and as she did he opened his 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 


69 

eyes and looked at her as if in great pain. 

''Robbers felled me as I hurried home with 
the gold from the sale of my master^s kine,” 
he said, in answer to her question. "All night 
I have lain here on the ground.’’ 

He was dressed in the garments of a cow¬ 
herd, which showed he was of the humblest 
peasantry, one a queen might hardly deign 
to notice. But to Dagmar he was of neither 
high nor low degree. He was a human being 
in need of help, and the great, tender heart of 
her went out to him instantly. 

"I ’ll lead you to yonder hut,” she exclaimed 
as she pointed to the cot of a swineherd about 
half a mile across the fields. 

But the man could not rise, even with her 
help. 

"I ’ll have to summon the peasants,” she 
said. So she took off her thick fur coat and 
wrapped it about him as a shield from the 
sharp March wind. Then she turned to re¬ 
mount Lubluck. 

But it occurred to her that if she left the 
man lying there with his head almost in the road 
some horse’s hoofs might strike it, or the cart¬ 
wheel of a strolling vender might roll over it. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


70 

So she turned to the charger whose intelligence 
made him not only her mount but her comrade 
and said, ''Take care of him, Lubluck/^ 

The beautiful creature neighed and squared 
himself beside the stranger, while Dagmar 
ran back across the freshly plowed fields to 
where the peasants were working. 

In her eagerness to get help she did not 
realize that with every step she took over the 
moist earth the soft kid of her boots grew 
damper and damper until it was soggy wet. 
She did not realize how sharply the wind cut 
through her satin dress, or how chilled she 
was, having suddenly exposed her body, hot 
from the exercise of riding, to the early spring 
blast. She thought only of the man lying 
white and miserable at the side of the road, 
and as she came within sight of the peasants 
she plunged ahead more rapidly than before, 
waving frantically and calling. 

They saw her and heard. They sped to 
the rescue and carried the unfortunate fellow 
to the cot of the swineherd. Then Dagmar 
put on her cloak and, remounting Lubluck, 
galloped back to the castle. But as she went 
it seemed to her the marrow in her bones was 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 


71 

frozen. She shivered and shook with cold, 
and that night the queen of Denmark tossed 
with fever. 

Two days passed, and the illness of the girl 
sovereign grew alarming. On the morning of 
the third the court physician shook his head 
when the ladies in waiting asked how fared 
their beloved mistress and answered, ‘We 
must send for the king.'' 

Couriers were despatched to the distant 
province where Valdemar had gone. It was 
far south and east of Ribe, and it meant days 
of riding by land and sailing by sea before a 
messenger could reach him.' 

Now it happened that Valdemar, after many 
hours of going from one village to another, 
traveling afoot in the guise of a strolling 
peddler that the peasants might not know he 
was king and might talk freely to him of their 
lives and needs, went back to Castle Skander- 
burg for a much-needed rest. But to lie down 
during the daytime was no rest at all for this 
energetic sovereign. 

‘T 'll have a game of checkers," he exclaimed 
to Lars Sunderson, one of the train of knights 
who had gone south with him. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


72 

Accordingly the two sat them down at a 
table to match their skill in moves with the little 
wooden men. 

Both played well, and both grew so interested 
in the game they did not hear the clang of 
armor just beyond the windows as a rider 
galloped into the courtyard. But when 
Dagmar's page hurried into the hall where 
they sat the king leaned forward in conster¬ 
nation, his mind filled with wondering fear for 
the wife and babe he had left behind. 

‘‘The queen he exclaimed in question as 
the velvet-robed youth bent knee before him. 

“Her Majesty is very ill,’^ came the answer. 

An old folk-song tells what Valdemar did 
then. 

The king his checker-board shut in haste, 

The dice they rattled and rung. 

Forbid it, God who dwells in heaven, 

That Dagmar should die so young. 

He dashed into the courtyard and mounted 
his charger, followed by all the knights who 
had fared south with him. 

Over moor and fen he sped. The songs of 
that day say that never in all the history of 
Denmark did cavalier ride at such hot speed, 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 73 

and although the knights of his train bestrode 
mounts of much mettle and swiftness, and 
pushed forward with all their might, one 
by one Valdemar left them behind. The an¬ 
cient minstrel lay describes how the train grew 
smaller and smaller because of the fierce speed 
of the ruler. 

When the king rode out of Skanderborg 
Him followed a hundred men, 

But when he rode over Ribe bridge. 

Then rode the king alone. 

After what seemed ages instead of days, he 
reached the bedside of Dagmar too late to be 
with her long. With the same beautiful smile 
that both peasants and nobles of two kingdoms 
loved, she greeted him. Then, with a tired 
sigh, she closed her eyes and said: 

‘The bells of heaven are chiming for me. 

No more may I stay to speak.” 

That night the bells of Ribe tolled the pass¬ 
ing of Dagmar, and a king in his palace and 
peasants in their huts wept because of the go¬ 
ing of the sweet Bohemian girl who 


74 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


Came without burden, came with peace, 
Came the good peasant to cheer. 

She had asked as her marriage portion the 
gift of freedom for the tillers of the soil. She 
had put sunshine into lives where shadows had 
been, and finally gave her own life in trying to 
save that of a cowherd beside the road. She 
had fulfilled in both letter and spirit the promise 
given to her father, good King Ottocar, when 
amid the cheers and tears of all Bohemia she 
rode away from Prague to become King 
Valdemar's bride. 

In piety, virtue, and fear of God 
The whole of her days were spent. 

And even her subjects were her thought. 
Their hopes on her care was bent. 

Is it strange then, although almost eight 
hundred years have passed, and not a stone is 
left of the palace where she lived and wrought 
for. the welfare of Denmark, that her name and 
memory are to the people of that country like 
the fragrance of some rare flower? Is it 
strange that in hut and hall of that northern 
land poets still sing the praises of the lovely 
queen, and mothers tell the children of her 


THE GOLDEN DAWN 75 

whose life and deeds make as sweet a chapter 
as is to be found in the whole great book of 
history, Dagmar, whose coming was as the 
dawn of a new and beautiful morning to a 
people and a king? 




4 


A 





BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 


i 


IV 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 

A S clear as the notes of a bell, the voice of 
a girl pealed out in merry laughter, 
‘'Methinks you jest, Gawain. Grandfather 
William loves his throne and has no intent of 
handing it over to another. Mayhap the day 
will come when I shall be duchess of Aquitaine, 
but something tells me it will be a day far 
distant.’" 

Eleanor, countess of Poitou, nodded em¬ 
phatically as she spoke these words. She was 
not yet fourteen years old, but as an heir pre¬ 
sumptive, which means that in the event of the 
death of the ruler she would have the right to 
inherit the throne, she had been schooled in the 
laws of royal procedure and knew that very 
likely, when the reign of her grandfather ended, 
she would be exalted in his place. Her father 
was dead. Her Uncle Raymond, the only 
surviving child of Duke William, had gone 
79 


8o GIRLHOOD STORIES 

forth into the world seeking adventure. At 
Antioch, in Palestine, he had fought the Sara¬ 
cens in the Holy Wars, and, conquering, had 
been made the Christian ruler of that city. 
Word borne from the east declared he would 
not come back, so that Eleanor knew that even¬ 
tually the crown of Aquitaine would come to 
her. But she believed it would not come for a 
very long time yet, not until death called her 
grandfather to his ancestors. He was a re¬ 
markably sturdy man for all his sixty-eight 
years, a match in strength and agility for any 
of the young courtiers. She was sure he 
would live for many years to come, until she 
was twenty or thirty, perhaps, or even forty. 

But Gawain d'Angers, the squire who had 
just hastened to her in the sunlit, vine- 
embowered garden that lay between the castle 
and the moat, shook his head at her confident 
speech. 

‘‘Then something tells you wrongly,’’ he 
declared with eager assurance. “Only five 
minutes ago, when I bore away from Duke 
William the drinking-cup he had just emptied, 
I heard him tell the ministers assembled in 
council that he means to abdicate in your 
favor.” 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 8i 

The girl looked at him with mocking eyes. 

“Nay, nay, Gawain,'' she insisted, “you can¬ 
not fool me thus. You jest, and I know it.'' 
Very seriously then she added, “I cannot imag¬ 
ine Grandfather William doing aught so 
amazing as what you say." 

Before the boy could reply a clamor of wild 
cheers sounded from the castle. 

“Long live Eleanor, duchess of Aquitaine," 
a chorus sounded from more than a hundred 
throats. The strains echoed through the gar¬ 
den, reverberated over the walls that shut the 
royal residence from the world beyond it, and 
like the clarion of a messenger, went winding 
down the pleasant valleys toward Bordeaux. 
Nut-sellers filling their baskets in groves that 
cloaked the hills beyond the chateau, shepherds 
following their flocks along the grassy slopes 
and gulches, and women gossiping in door- 
yards—everybody stopped to listen and looked 
in eager interest toward the great stone pile 
that was the residence of the lord of the realm. 
But nobody needed to ask the meaning of the 
chorus. Very plainly the words said to all who 
heard them, “William of Aquitaine is about to 
abdicate the throne." If harm had come to the 
ruler, if death had suddenly ended his career. 


82 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


the cry would have been, ‘The duke is dead! 
Long live the duchessThat was the age-old 
way of announcing that the reign of one 
sovereign had ended and that his successor's 
was about to begin. Therefore the people for 
long rods around knew that William meant to 
be done with affairs of state and hand over his 
scepter to his granddaughter. 

For a moment, as Eleanor understood that 
what Gawain had told her was true, she was 
amazed, bewildered. Then, realizing what the 
proclamation meant, she exclaimed: “Come! 
Methinks there is much within doors to interest 
me now." 

They hurried from the garden and sped 
along the broad, long hall that led to the 
council-chamber. There, all in the gorgeous 
apparel that in the twelfth century marked the 
state attire of men and women of the nobility, 
the courtiers and ladies were assembled; and 
before them, on a dais, in the gilded, jeweled 
chair that was the throne of Aquitaine, sat the 
duke. He had just given word for a servitor 
to summon his granddaughter, but she entered 
before the fellow had time to go forth with the 
message. With lusty, joyous cheers the throng 
greeted her as she moved through the great 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 83 

apartment. Smiles and nods of approval were 
exchanged when at a gesture from the Duke 
William she mounted the steps of the dais and 
took a seat beside him. A minister read the 
proclamation that declared that two months 
hence, on the fourteenth birthday of his grand¬ 
daughter, William meant to surrender all af¬ 
fairs of state to her and devote the remainder of 
his life to quiet in a monastery in Spain. 

‘With all my titles and lands do I endow my 
son’s child, Eleanor,” the proclamation read. 
“Upon the day I quit the throne she shall be¬ 
come ruler absolute of Aquitaine.” 

Cheer upon cheer followed the reading of the 
document, cheers of whole-hearted approval 
that told that the young countess was a pleasing 
choice to the entire assemblage. 

But as she looked down into the sea of faces 
and heard again and again the words, “duchess 
of Aquitaine,” she felt just a little frightened. 
Until now the idea of being a sovereign, wear¬ 
ing magnificent clothes, and doing as one 
pleased had seemed splendid to her. But 
suddenly she realized that a ruler has much to 
do besides looking beautiful and gratifying her 
own desires. Like a flash the thought came 
that there would be many subjects to please, 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


84 

many difficulties to adjust. She wondered if 
she could please her people and solve their 
problems. 

There was little time for her mind to dwell 
upon that question, however. Throughout the 
remainder of that day, and for many days 
thereafter, every minute was filled with prep¬ 
aration for the coronation. There were hours 
upon hours of conference with costume- 
makers, for a reigning duchess must have a 
sumptuous wardrobe. There were hours of 
studying and practising for the coronation 
ceremonial. Princes from a score of other 
lands would come with glitter and magnificence 
to represent their kings when the grand¬ 
daughter of William was exalted to the rank 
of sovereign, and everything must be done with 
the luxurious pomp and perfection that befitted 
the rank among nations of the realm over 
which she was to wield scepter. 

A jewel among countries was Aquitaine, and, 
although called a duchy, it was more powerful 
than many a land whose ruler bore the title 
of king. Her fertile, beautifully tilled leagues 
of hill and lowland extended from the moun¬ 
tains of Auvergne to the Biscay Gulf, and were 
bounded southward and northward by the 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 85 

rivers Garonne and Loire. Beyond, on the 
east, lay Languedoc, stretching as far as the 
Rhone. Beyond Languedoc, still further to¬ 
ward the rising sun, was Provence, washed by 
the Mediterranean and bordered by Italy, and 
to the south of these three realms lay Rous¬ 
sillon, Guienne, and Gascony, each an inde¬ 
pendent country that reached to Spain. This 
was southern France when Duke William came 
to the throne. He inherited just the country 
between the Loire and Garonne, but before 
reigning many years by his able sovereignty 
he had changed the map of the entire land. 
Guienne, Roussillon, and Gascony became a 
part of the territory over which he held sway. 
Languedoc and Provence remained nominally 
independent, but they were virtually under his 
control, so that by the time Eleanor was ten 
years old the power of Aquitaine extended 
from the Bay of Biscay to the Mediterranean 
and from the Loire to the Spanish border. 
William built up a mighty commerce. He had 
boats upon the high seas, carrying on trade 
with all the lands of the world, at every voy¬ 
age bringing wealth to his capital of Bordeaux 
and to the entire realm. Even the king of 
France began to look with a jealous eye in his 


86 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


direction; France in the early part of the 
twelfth century consisted only of what is now 
the central part of that land, the portion bor¬ 
dering the English Channel and the Belgium 
that we know making up the duchies of Nor¬ 
mandy and Burgundy. 

‘Tf I be not watchful this southern lord will 
become a sovereign of greater might than I 
am,’' Louis VI more than once remarked in 
alarm. And his fear was not without good 
reason. Rulers everywhere followed with ad¬ 
miration and amazement Duke William’s mar¬ 
velous nation-building, and from the Scandi¬ 
navian oceans to the Greek and Italian seas 
men spoke with enthusiasm of Imperial 
Aquitaine. 

A realm of culture and happiness was Aqui¬ 
taine, even as it was a realm of power. The 
language of its people was the tongue history 
knows as Provenqal, an elegant, musical form 
of speech combining the best points of the 
French language and the Italian. It was a 
dulcet, flowing tongue that lent itself to poetry, 
and, as the people of this southern French ter¬ 
ritory were a beauty-loving, rhythmic race, 
poets rose in numbers, expressing their hap- 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 87 

piest thoughts in verse, and setting this verse 
to melody. West of the Rhone these bards 
were known locally as trouveres; east of it they 
were spoken of as troubadours. But the 
world in general called the entire company 
troubadours. Duke William was himself a 
troubadour of much talent and reputation. It 
was his delight to have always at court a group 
of poets with whom he could match his own 
ability as a maker of verses. 

Over this sun-glorified, elegant, fortunate 
realm, Eleanor at fourteen was to reign as 
sovereign. 

The day of days drew near. Then in the 
midst of the excitement that enveloped the en¬ 
tire country as preparations for the corona¬ 
tion progressed, a piece of news went forth 
that roused the people to a frenzy of pride. 

‘The duke has arranged a marriage between 
his granddaughter and Louis le Jeune, son and 
heir of the king of France!’^ 

The wedding, it was declared, would im¬ 
mediately precede the coronation. 

Eleanor had nothing to say about the ar¬ 
rangement, although it affected her more than 
any one else, for in France, as in every other 


88 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


land of Europe, a princess had no more voice 
in the matter of whom she would marry than a 
horse had as to the direction in which it was to 
be driven or ridden. She was even more help¬ 
less, in fact, for the horse could run away. If 
a princess attempted anything like that she was 
shut up in a tower. 

'T hope Louis proves not to be a boor,’^ El¬ 
eanor remarked to Gawain as one morning in 
the garden she and the squire talked about the 
approaching marriage. 

Gawain scowled at her words, for the news 
that she was to wed Louis was anything but 
pleasing to him. He detested the thought of 
the coming of the French prince to Bordeaux, 
because he knew it would put an end to the 
jolly frolics he and Eleanor often had in the 
castle and garden; the companionship between 
himself and the girl was one of his greatest 
pleasures. 

Sulkily he replied fo her, ‘Xike as not he is 
an awkward dolt who will stumble and sprawl 
on the cathedral steps as you go to your 
coronation.’’ 

Eleanor’s eyes flashed with sudden spirit. 
‘Tf Louis does such clownish thing,” she re¬ 
turned a bit snappily, “I shall box his ears 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 89 

right soundly, and my first imperial act will be 
to order him shut up in a dungeon until he is 
schooled in manners/’ 

Picturing the girl’s disciplining of her fu¬ 
ture spouse, the two laughed merrily. There 
was much of bravery in both of these young 
folk, and bravery prevents whining when 
things go not according to one’s desires. Both 
Eleanor and Gawain were distressed by the 
thought of the approaching marriage, but they 
chose to laugh over it instead of spoiling their 
hours together by vain pouting. 

The joint ceremony of the marriage and cor¬ 
onation was celebrated with great pomp. 
Never in her history had Bordeaux witnessed 
so splendid an event, with lords from every 
land of Europe riding in the great processional. 
Princes from far Hungary and Russia, each 
attended by a magnificent suite and attired in 
barbaric elegance, bore with them, lifted to the 
gaze of spectators in the streets, the costly 
gifts they had brought from their rulers as 
tokens of homage to the young duchess. Lords 
of Germany, Austria, and Sweden were there, 
also, from Britain, Spain, and Portugal, each 
vying with the other in bringing the richest 
presents and being the most gorgeously 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


90 

dressed. The courtiers and ladies of Aqui¬ 
taine glittered in jewel-studded velvet and satin 
that dazzled the eyes of all who saw as they 
moved forward in the sunlight. Behind the 
courtiers moved troubadours, crimson-robed 
and garlanded, eight and forty in all, singing 
at intervals ballads that one of their number 
had composed for the ceremonial, accompany¬ 
ing the songs on viols and lutes. Close be¬ 
hind the troubadours, riding in the golden 
ducal carriage, were Eleanor and Louis, the 
young prince of France. Beside the grace of 
the agile squire, Gawain d’Angers, he seemed 
cumbersome indeed, although he did not stum¬ 
ble on the cathedral steps or sprawl in the door¬ 
way. Excellently well demeanored was he as 
he stepped from the carriage and took his place 
behind the courtiers of Aquitaine, but, as the 
people watched him, they believed they would 
not love him overmuch. He was a solemn¬ 
faced lad, one who looked as if he might be 
given to puzzling moods. 

'Toor Eleanor!” thought Gawain, as, stand¬ 
ing in the guard-of-honor within the church, 
he watched the prince stride by him. But 
Eleanor, moving to the altar with head held 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 91 

high, looked anything but a cause for pity. 
She meant to act the part of duchess of Aqui¬ 
taine. But within she was torn between a 
wish to box Louis’s ears so soundly that he 
would go spinning from her and never come 
back again and a desire to speed to some far 
place where nobody would have power to make 
any one marry a person she did not choose for 
herself. 

Eleanor began her reign as duchess of Aqui¬ 
taine in a manner that delighted her subjects. 
She was possessed of a brilliant intellect as well 
as beauty and grace of manner, was excel¬ 
lently educated, and had the wisdom to heed 
the advice of those better versed in state af¬ 
fairs than she was. Under her rule prosper¬ 
ity and happiness held sway in Aquitaine. 
The populace loved her with deep loyalty and 
gave her the full measure of their homage. 

But Louis they never learned to like. They 
were children of laughter, these folk of Aqui¬ 
taine; and the serious-faced, gloomy prince 
seemed a very disagreeable person to them. 

‘^To live with him is as staying in a dark 
cellar,” a chronicler of that day wrote. 

But Eleanor managed very well. When the 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


92 

moods of Louis depressed her, she added to 
the gaiety of her court. Additional trouba¬ 
dours she invited there. Entertainers and 
jesters were brought at the cost of many gold 
pieces from Italy, and every week was bright¬ 
ened with tournaments, balls, and contests of 
poetry. Like her grandfather, she, too, was 
a poet of ability and composed many excellent 
verses which she sang to her own accompani¬ 
ment on lute or viol. She acted as judge of 
the merits of the verses of the others and be¬ 
stowed handsome rewards upon the winners. 
Louis might moon in the garden or in his apart¬ 
ments a week at a time if he chose, but she did 
not let it spoil her days. Blithely she filled them 
with tournament and with troubadour song, 
making her realm so much a haunt of pleasure 
that people spoke of it as ^'gay Guienne.’’ 
Guienne having become a part of the duchy of 
Aquitaine, the name was often poetically ap¬ 
plied to the entire province. 

‘Tt is very nice being a sovereign,’' she re¬ 
marked to Gawain, after she had held the 
throne for almost five months. 

But soon after that there came a day when 
Eleanor’s care-free life in the southland ended. 
The king of France died. Louis succeeded 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 93 

him as Louis VII, and Eleanor was forced to 
leave her loved capital of Bordeaux and take 
up residence in Paris. 

There, away from the laughter and sun of 
the southland, she was very unhappy. In the 
realm inherited from her grandfather she was 
sovereign in her own right and could plan 
things as she chose to have them, but in Paris 
she was but the wife of the sovereign. 

Louis made life within his palace as gloomy 
as the gloomiest of his moods. 

''Royalty is a public trust, for the exercise of 
which a rigorous account will be exacted by 
Him who has sole disposal of crowns and 
scepters.'’ 

Thus spake King Louis VI when dying, and 
his son remembered and cherished his words. 
In striving to fulfil the trust he determined to 
devote all his time to serious thought, believ¬ 
ing that by so doing he would be a better sov¬ 
ereign. He forbade dancing, poetry contests, 
tournaments, the things Eleanor loved. The 
French capital was a place of such wretched¬ 
ness to her that she thought longingly of "gay 
Guienne"; and the only really happy times in 
her life as queen of France were the visits that 
several times each year she made to her own 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


94 

realm. During them she could have the days 
and nights of color, music, and laughter that 
she craved. In Aquitaine she was free as a 
wild bird. In Paris she was like a lark or 
nightingale with clipped wings. Both peas¬ 
ants and courtiers in the south country knew 
that whenever she left Bordeaux she went like 
an unhappy captive, and it was whispered in 
both hut and castle hall that such state of 
things could not last. 

Ten years rolled by, however, with Eleanor 
dividing her time between Paris and Bordeaux. 

It happened then that Bernard of Fontaines 
—^known as St. Bernard in history—preached 
a crusade in Burgundy. The French king and 
queen journeyed northward to hear the elo¬ 
quent monk, and Eleanor was so much moved 
by his plea that the hosts of Christianity go to 
defense of the Holy Sepulcher at Jerusalem 
that she vowed she would ride to the east her¬ 
self at the head of her own forces of Aquitaine. 

She did that very thing. Organizing her 
ladies into a company of Amazons, she formed 
a lightly armed squadron. Their distaffs and 
embroidery-frames they sent to all the knights 
of the realm who refused to join the expedi¬ 
tion, and they taunted them in so many ways 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 95 

that hundreds who intended to stay at home set 
out for Palestine. 

Eleanor and her Amazons fought with the 
Arabs. In a valley in Laodicea they were cut 
off from the rest of the Christian forces by a 
troop of Moslems and escaped death only by a 
battle that took the lives of several hundred 
knights, Gawain d'Angers being one of the 
number. It would have been better, it would 
have cost less in chivalrous French blood, had 
Eleanor and her Amazons stayed at home and 
left the fighting to men who understood it. 
But to the romantic-minded queen it seemed a 
great and holy undertaking, and she always 
gloried in the thought of having gone as a cru¬ 
sader to the Holy Land. 

That expedition to Palestine caused a breach 
between Louis and his queen that was never 
mended. Eleanor^s obstinacy in commanding 
her forces as she chose, instead of listening to 
the advice of skilled military men, and by that 
obstinacy causing a battle that brought death to 
some of the most chivalrous knights of France, 
was a thing for which he could not forgive her. 
Shortly after the royal pair returned to Paris 
they were divorced. 

Then Eleanor married Henry Plantagenet, 


96 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

duke of Normandy and prince of England. 
These two established a residence in a castle 
on the shore of the British Channel, where 
they duplicated the luxury and gay entertain¬ 
ment that had been a part of Eleanor's life in 
the south. It was no longer like going to 
prison when she had to leave ‘^gay Guienne." 
But still she loved Aquitaine better than any 
other place. 

Not for very long, however, did the ex¬ 
queen of France live in the castle on the chan¬ 
nel. A little more than a year after her mar¬ 
riage to Henry Plantagenet that prince be¬ 
came king of England, and the two repaired to 
London for the coronation. Eleanor, when 
she went to the throne of England, took with 
her as a part of her coronation gift to her hus¬ 
band a fleet of ships from the goodly number 
of the vessels of Aquitaine. Until the acces¬ 
sion of Henry, England's ocean commerce had 
been of no importance. But with the fleet 
Eleanor brought him the newly ascended king 
gave much attention to building up trade by 
sea. As the vessels returned him wealth he 
added to the number, gradually forming a great 
navy and merchant marine. 

Many varied events marked Eleanor's life 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 97 

as queen of England, some sad, some gay. 
Gladdest of all was the birth of a son, who, even 
as a babe, showed that he inherited his mother's 
blithe nature and keen intellect. He was chris¬ 
tened Richard, and throughout his boyhood 
Eleanor called him le Joyeux, the Joyous. 
She told him stories of her girlhood in the dis¬ 
tant southland, of hours of merry comradeship 
with Gawain d'Angers, of days filled with 
tournaments and troubadour song. Always 
to these tales the boy listened with such eager 
interest and keen enjoyment that one day his 
mother exclaimed: ^'The south is in you, its 
color, warmth, and brightness. To my Aqui¬ 
taine you shall go to hear the melodies of the 
troubadours and drink the magic of its 
sunshine!" 

Accordingly she sent him to her native 
realm, and Richard loved the luxurious, grace¬ 
ful life as passionately as ever his mother had 
loved it. He, too, became a poet, a troubadour 
of merit, who wrote verses of such excellence 
that had he not been a prince he would have 
been welcome at lordly seats as a maker of 
songs. For many joyous moons he roamed 
over the land that had been the sovereign seat 
of his mother's people until affairs of state be- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


98 

yond the channel took an unexpected turn and 
he had to journey north to become king of 
England. 

But Richard was too restless by nature to 
stay quietly upon a throne. Crusaders fared 
to Palestine once more, and he journeyed with 
them, one of the most spectacular and pictur¬ 
esque figures in all the great company that 
went to the Holy Wars, fighting the Saracens 
as his mother had done before him. He 
fought gallantly and fiercely, too. He could 
guide a steed and swing a sword with amazing 
skill, and was so fearless in the face of danger, 
so laughingly, recklessly daring as he looked 
death in the face, that men called him Coeur de 
Lion, Lion Heart. And often when comrades 
praised him for some act of courage he would 
answer gallantly, ‘Tt is from my gracious 
mother that the fitness for doing it came.’’ 

Eleanor of Aquitaine lived throughout the 
reign of the son she adored, and always she 
was his closest friend and adviser. She ruled 
in his stead as regent while he was absent on 
the crusade and on several other occasions 
when he went away to fight in foreign wars. 
She ruled ably, too, as ever since her girlhood 


BLITHE HEART OF AQUITAINE 99 

she had ruled in the realm inherited from her 
ancestors. 

Eleanor of Aquitaine was one of the great 
women of history. Ruler of a realm at four¬ 
teen, and a ruler of such ability and fairness 
that she was the idol of both the nobility and 
the populace, queen of France and queen of 
England, mother of Richard the Lion Heart, 
and poet of such merit that she deserves to 
rank among the early authors of France, there 
is no more romantic character in the story of 
any land than that of this blithe-hearted 
daughter of the French southland, whose coro¬ 
nation gift to England was the beginning of 
that country's navy and merchant marine. 


.1 

I 

i 


i 

i 


. 1 

■j 



PHILIPPA’S MEMORY GOWN 



V 


PHILIPPA’S MEMORY GOWN 

H IS father was king of England and his 
unde was king of France, yet he and 
his mother Isabella were refugees, riding 
northward from Paris to Valenciennes, which 
was then a part of Flanders, to seek protection 
and shelter at the court of Earl William of 
Hainault. But it mattered little to Edward, 
although he was an exile. He was sixteen 
years old, and the glow of youth was so strong 
in his spirit that it seemed a splendid ad¬ 
venture. Moreover, he did not doubt that 
right would triumph speedily, and then the 
nobles whose slanderous tales had turned his 
royal father against him and his mother would 
be shut up in the prison where they had tried 
to put the queen and her son. So he whistled 
as the cavalcade moved northward, whistled 
ballads and rondels that strolling minstrels had 
brought to the Windsor Castle halls; and now 
and then he signaled a bird so blithely that it 
103 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


104 

trilled back to him as it flew from the green 
tent of a forest tree to a cushion of spring 
flowers. It was blossom weather in the Ar¬ 
dennes. In the gladness of nature it seemed 
only goodness and beauty could be in the 
world; and although homeless as the beggars 
who passed him on the roadside, he went hap¬ 
pily toward the castle of the earl. There he 
met Philippa, the youngest of the Hainault 
princesses and a maid whose beauty of face 
and quickness of tongue were sung by 
minstrels throughout many provinces. 

A splendid court his Highness of Hainault 
kept, and many a brave knight and fair 
lady abode there. And in goodly numbers 
there were also pages and squires, youths with 
days made roseate with pretty tasks and with 
dreams of the golden morning when they, too, 
would wear the spurs of knighthood. Then, 
ah, then, they would fare forth on the road that 
leads to glory and set their names among the 
immortals of all high chivalry. Great hopes, 
great resolves, filled their hearts each time they 
bore train for a damsel or bent knee to buckle 
spurs on the boot of some liege lord. In all 
that dreaming, eager throng no heart beat 


PHILIPPA’S MEMORY GOWN 105 

more hopefully than that of young Jean Frois¬ 
sart, a squire and scribe at the castle who de¬ 
lighted above all things else in the making of 
verses. He spun ballads and rondels by doz¬ 
ens and hundreds. If it had not been for him 
and his poetry, there would be no story to tell, 
because without him Philippa would not have 
had the memory gown. But he set her wheels 
of destiny to whirring so delightfully that they 
talk about it all over Belgium even yet. 

In that far-off time, when Europe was young 
and America and a new route to the Indies had 
not even been thought about, royal youths took 
brides very early, but they had no more to do 
with making the choice than the girls they 
wedded. Some fat old churchman who was 
adviser to a king, or a group of sour-faced 
nobles with no memory left of what the dreams 
of youth mean, decided that Prince So-and- 
so of England should marry a certain princess 
of Denmark, Spain, or Germany, because in 
sooth the alliance would greatly profit affairs 
of state. And the young people in question 
could do nothing but abide by the decision, even 
if the sight of each other made them sick. 
They were checkers and chessmen in the hands 


io6 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

of politicians, and usually it happened that they 
were moved in exactly the opposite direction 
from the one in which they wanted to go. 

Young Edward had a mind of his own. 
Moreover, he hated the custom of the time ac¬ 
cording to which youths and maidens were 
shoved about on the checker-board of politics, 
regardless of their wishes, just because they 
happened to be nobly born. 

He did not know what statesmen back in the 
home-land would think about it, but before he 
had been a month at Valenciennes he made up 
his mind that Philippa should be the future 
queen of England. There was not much time 
to talk about the plan, however, for Isabella 
was gathering an army with which to go back 
home and assert her rights. But when Edward 
set sail for London Town he left a promise 
with the princess to come back for her. 

A great many things happened on that voy¬ 
age; so many that telling about them would 
make ten stories instead of one. But after 
being tempest-tossed and almost shipwrecked 
the queen's forces reached the island kingdom, 
and they shut up the bad nobles in prisons, 
where they belonged. They dethroned the 
king, too, because he had been so weak as to be 


PHILIPPA’S MEMORY GOWN 107 

swayed by his courtiers, and they crowned Ed¬ 
ward king of England. Of course, when that 
came to pass the young monarch began think¬ 
ing about the Hainault girl. 

But sometimes even kings cannot have 
things as they want them, especially if they hap¬ 
pen to be very young kings. Edward was still 
under age, and therefore sovereign in name 
only, for his mother, as regent, was real ruler 
of England. So his plans came to be in a very 
bad mix-up. 

Isabella liked her new position ever so much. 
Instead of being uneasy, as the poets say people 
who wield scepters always are, her head was 
so comfortable under her crown that she 
wanted to keep wearing it the rest of her days. 
Since the law forbade her doing that, she 
planned to rule England by ruling Edward 
even after he became king in reality. She 
knew her dream would come to naught if he 
married the high-spirited Philippa. There¬ 
fore she decided that her son’s wife should be 
Joanne, the eldest daughter of the earl of 
Hainault, who was more easily managed than 
her sister. She set to work at once to make 
arrangements and secretly despatched the 
bishop of Hereford to Valenciennes to ask 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


io8 

Earl William for the hand of his eldest child, 
which was a very deceitful and unqueenlike 
act. But it happens once in a while that 
queens regent do not have things as they want 
them, any more than very young kings. It 
happened that way in this case. 

Joanne had been very happy in thinking of 
her sister on the throne of England, and when 
his Eminence of Hereford asked her to wear 
the ring that would make her the betrothed 
wife of King Edward she refused to let him 
put it on her finger. 

‘T know very well that his Majesty's choice 
is my sister Philippa," she insisted. ‘T will 
not take what belongs to her." 

The bishop of Hereford was red-faced to 
begin with, and now he grew redder still with 
anger, because he knew how furious Isabella 
would be when she found out he had failed to 
arrange for what she wanted and began pictur¬ 
ing for himself a damp, dark dungeon in Lon¬ 
don Tower. But Joanne did not care. She 
went out into the garden to talk things over 
with Jean Froissart, who was in a bower of 
myrtle at his favorite pastime of putting verses 
on parchment. 

‘T feel like a cross cat!" she exclaimed as she 


PHILIPPA’S MEMORY GOWN 109 

went near him; ^^unless somebody smooths my 
fur, I shall certainly scratch.” 

Jean Froissart was amazed to find Joanne so 
irritable, for she was a very even-tempered 
girl. When he heard about the bishop and the 
queen-mother, he was indignant, too, because 
he knew as well as anybody that Edward had 
chosen Philippa. Just before the prince set 
sail for England, he had said he wanted to give 
Philippa a gift of poetry on her birthday and 
had asked Jean to make some of his best verses 
and have them ready. They were finished 
now, beautifully printed on parchment, locked 
away awaiting the anniversary. Why not get 
them out and let the maid see for herself that 
the king had not forgotten? For you must 
know that Philippa thought her young lover 
knew all about the visit of the bishop of Here¬ 
ford, and she was so angry, thinking he had 
turned fickle, that she declared she would not 
have his ring though it went begging all over 
Europe. 

He could change all that with the verses, 
Jean believed, and so it did not take him long 
to go into the castle and get the parchment, 
after which Joanne took it to her sister. 

Who would not have been appeased by the 


no 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


poetry of a Froissart? Before another hour 
Philippa accepted the ring; and that night, in 
the great hall of the castle, torches flared and 
lutes thrilled as brave knights and fair ladies 
danced in honor of the princesses betrothal to 
the king of England. 

Then what excitement there was in Valen¬ 
ciennes, with a royal wedding approaching! 
Of course there had to be a fine trousseau, and 
two weeks later the four sisters rode to Ghent, 
then one of the chief cloth-markets of Flan¬ 
ders, to purchase it. A stately cavalcade they 
made, each on a saddle-horse magnificently 
caparisoned, followed by packhorses bearing 
empty boxes and attended by serving-men and 
lancers. The eyes of the girls danced as they 
rode through the gate of the town, for the 
great bell Roland was just then calling the 
people together, and crowds hurried along 
the streets or stood talking in groups as if 
very much excited. 

^Tt seems like the beginning of a fair ad¬ 
venture,’’ Philippa remarked to Joanne, as 
they moved on their way toward the castle of 
the count of Flanders, which was to be their 
home while in the town. "‘There is much stir 


PHILIPPA^S MEMORY GOWN in 


among the citizens, and methinks more hap¬ 
pens here than at Valenciennes/' 

She reckoned correctly. Much was happen¬ 
ing in Ghent just then, and more was about to 
happen; and, although she did not know it, she 
herself was to be in the very center of the train 
of events. 

That night the count of Flanders gave 
a banquet and had as his guests the burghers, 
who were the merchants and manufacturers 
of the town. His lordship was not given 
to associating with tradespeople, but Ghent 
was a bubbling caldron of dissatisfaction 
just then, and he knew not at what moment 
it might boil over. The French king, Philip 
of Valois, had seized the town, appointing 
the count royal governor, and the people 
bitterly resented the loss of their ancient liber¬ 
ties and the tyranny of the foreign rule, for 
Ghent had been a free city for hundreds and 
hundreds of years. Indignation grew as in¬ 
sult piled on insult, and finally a leader arose 
who fired the citizens to assert themselves. 
His name was Jacques Van Artevelde. He 
was head of the gild of brewers and a capable, 
popular man. When the royal collector came 


II2 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


to gather in the exorbitant and unjust taxes he 
urged the townsfolk to refuse payment, with 
the result that they threw both man and money¬ 
bags into the river Scheldt and gave him a most 
unwelcome sousing. This made it clear to the 
count that in some way he would have to ap¬ 
pease the wrath of the burghers, and he 
thought that a fine supper at the castle would 
flatter them so much they would become docile. 
He little knew how indignant and proud they 
were. 

The burghers came, but they were not a bit 
dazzled by the splendor of the banquet-hall nor 
cajoled by the rich foods. Instead they grew 
even more defiant. They told his lordship to 
his face that hereafter they meant to rule 
Ghent to suit themselves and that if he were 
wise he would not try to interfere. Philippa 
and her sisters heard every word, and they 
were so frightened they dreaded to think of 
going shopping next morning. But the pur¬ 
chases had to be made, for a royal bride must 
have a roy^l trousseau. So, praying good luck 
would attend them, they set out early. Joanne 
wanted a guard, but Philippa objected, believing 
that girls unattended would be safer than those 


PHILIPPA’S MEMORY GOWN 113 

surrounded by an armed escort, which might 
antagonize the burghers. 

Down into the market-place they went, and 
the market-place of Ghent in those days was a 
sight to gladden the eyes of .a girl. Nowhere 
in the world had the art of weaving reached 
such perfection as in the Flemish cities, and 
Philippa found such an amazing display of vel¬ 
vets, lace, and satins she could hardly decide 
what she liked best. Finally she selected a 
crimson redingote, a veil and coronet of Brus¬ 
sels lace, and dozens of other garments such as 
the high estate of a queen would require. She 
paid the merchant and bade him deliver 
the purchases at the castle of the count of 
Flanders, after which she and her sisters 
started back toward the castle, the lackey of 
the draper following close behind with the 
bundles. 

They had not gone far when suddenly a 
band of halberdiers surrounded them. They 
seized the man with packages. They faced 
the girls about and commanded them to return 
with them to the Cloth Hall. When they got 
there the sisters found the twenty-four gild 
heads, who represented the people of Ghent, 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


114 

sitting around a table, with Jacques Van 
Artevelde presiding over the meeting. 

‘'Tell us who ye may be,’’ he demanded 
roughly, "that ye order packages sent to the 
castle of the count of Flanders.” 

He tore open a bundle as he spoke and drew 
out the folds of the crimson redingote. 

"This garment is one of the costliest ever 
loomed in Flanders, and it is the will of the 
drapers to know what damsel or dame will 
wear it.” 

Philippa's head went high and her eyes 
flashed. "What may that matter to you,” she 
retorted, "since I paid the merchant for it as 
much as he required?” 

Van Artevelde paid no attention to her 
words. 

"This veil of lace,” he continued, "is fit for 
the robe of a sovereign, and the weavers of 
Ghent have sworn that the yield of their looms 
shall never grace the court of Philip Valois of 
France.” 

Then anger went out of Philippa's voice, 
and she laughed merrily. 

"Have no fear of that,” she answered 
blithely, "for I am Philippa of Hainault, and 


PHILIPPA’S MEMORY GOWN 115 

this redingote of flame is the robe I shall wear 
when I ride to my coronation as queen of 
England.” 

For a moment Van Artevelde stared as if 
stunned. Then he and all the burghers sprang 
up and bowed in homage, for the people of 
Ghent were very friendly to the young king of 
England, who already had given his promise to 
aid them. They begged Philippa to accept as 
a bridal gift the robe and veil that caused all 
the trouble, whereupon she courtesied as a 
future queen should and set out for the castle 
with her sisters. 

Many moons passed. Away in Merry Eng¬ 
land the Hainault girl went to her coronation 
and wore the gift of the Flanders drapers. 
She called it her memory gown, because the 
sight of it brought back the towers of Ghent 
and the old Cloth Hall where so much had hap¬ 
pened. And on her twenty-first birthday, as 
her ladies in waiting held up her various 
dresses that she might choose one to wear to 
the banquet that night, her eyes brightened at 
sight of the flame-colored folds, and she told 
them its story. 

‘‘Jhey seemed mighty and fearless men,” 


ii6 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

she remarked as she finished the tale, “and al¬ 
though I pretended boldness, I bdieved we 
should leave the place in chains/^ 

One of the women smiled at her and an¬ 
swered, “They were and are mighty, your 
Majesty, for has not their craft of weaving 
made the Flemish cities rich?” 

Philippa looked up in surprise. 

“I never thought of that,” she replied, “and 
it is strange, for it gives me an idea.” 

That afternoon the queen of England 
despatched a courier with a message to a 
weaver in Ghent, and a fortnight later she pro¬ 
claimed to the English people that she had ar¬ 
ranged to bring to the island the craft of cloth¬ 
making, which had been a source of wealth to 
the Low Countries. A colony of workers un¬ 
der John Kempe crossed the sea and began 
operations at Norwich, and because its mem¬ 
bers were brought there by the queen and 
financed from her private fortune, they were 
known far and wide as “Her Majesty’s 
Weavers.” 

Golden, eventful years rolled over the golden 
head of Philippa. She lived happily in Eng¬ 
land and held until she died the love and loyalty 
of the English people. She was queen in more 


PHILIPPA’S MEMORY GOWN 117 

than name, for when Edward was absent at his 
wars she ruled the country as regent, and the 
story of how well she ruled it is told in many 
an old chronicle. She had numerous estates, 
every one of them magnificent, but she liked 
best the castle of Woodstock. There, when¬ 
ever she could be free from cares of state, she 
enjoyed life as men and women of big natures 
do. And there sometimes came young Geof¬ 
frey Chaucer, a youth whose poetry was begin¬ 
ning to be talked about, and whose name was 
destined to live on through the ages. There 
too, between his wanderings in far lands, came 
another maker of verses, the playmate of the 
far-off Valenciennes days, Jean Froissart. 
Sometimes Jean and Geoffrey had contests, at 
>vhich Philippa was always a delighted but, ac¬ 
cording to Chaucer’s notion, a very partial 
judge. 

Six hundred years have passed away. 
Philippa sleeps in the Westminster Abbey in 
the tomb of Edward the Confessor, and a 
sepulcher worthy of a sovereign marks the site 
of her last resting-place. But her most endur¬ 
ing monument is the cloth industry of Eng¬ 
land, which has gone on successfully since the 
day she founded it, spreading from Norwich to 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


ii8 

other localities and becoming one of the chief 
sources of Britain’s wealth. All over the 
world poets and scholars read the works of 
those two friends of hers whose verses glad¬ 
dened life at Woodstock, and try to equal their 
achievements, for Chaucer grew to be the king 
and father of British poets, while Froissart, al¬ 
though he wrote excellent poetry, wrote even 
better chronicles and stands as the great his¬ 
torian of the Middle Ages. 

And across the sea in Flanders, that 
Flanders that has been war-torn and peace- 
blessed so many times since Philippa’s blithe 
girlhood there, mothers tell their children, and 
laugh as they relate the story, of the visit of a 
bishop to Valenciennes and the plan of a queen 
mother that came to naught through some 
verses by a squire. They tell also of Jacques 
iV an Artevelde and the memory gown, and how 
Philippa rejoiced to see him rise to fame, for 
he became one of the mightiest leaders of his 
time, the niwald, or president, of Flanders. 

And did his Eminence of Hereford get a 
dungeon in the Tower? If you look very 
carefully through the chronicles of Froissart 
you can find that out for yourself. 


JACQUELINE 


I 


> 


i 


■i 


VI 


JACQUELINE 

S HE was the daughter of one of the mighti¬ 
est lords of Europe. Throughout the 
realms of Holland, Hainault, and Zealand she 
was the ‘'goode and greate ladie’' of an adoring 
peasantry. Yet she was a prisoner in the 
gloomy old tower of Ghent for no other crime 
than because her possessions were coveted by 
the powerful duke of Burgundy, who thought 
that to confine her would be the surest and 
quickest way of getting her to sign her hold¬ 
ings over to him. He was her cousin, too, but 
in the turbulent early part of the fifteenth 
century cousins were not all given to loving 
and kindly deeds. 

Underneath her prison windows, across the 
turbid waters of the moat, the market-women 
were chattering over their wares, laughing 
whenever they chanced to sell a bit of lace 
or a nosegay for a penny. As Jacqueline 
watched them through the bars she thought of 

I2I 


122 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


her own vast holdings in three provinces, and 
she knew that while these poor ones feasted to¬ 
morrow because of trinkets sold to-day, her 
neck might feel the edge of the executioner's 
ax. The sunlight wove bronze and silver lace- 
work as it filtered down between the tree-tops, 
and youth and life pulsated in the streets. It 
seemed strange and unjust to her that she could 
have no share in them, although she, too, was 
part of youth. 

There was a sudden thudding at the door 
that shut in her prison room, and at sound of 
it her serving-woman, who was dozing in the 
corner, started up in alarm. Perhaps the 
soldiers of the duke were coming to lead her 
mistress to more terrible quarters. 

The princess thought so too and shivered. 
Then she remembered she was daughter of a 
house whose motto was, ‘'Die, but flinch 
never!" She gripped her hands as if striving 
to cling to every shred of courage she pos¬ 
sessed, stood by the window, and waited. 

The heavy door swung open, and a man 
came into the room, a large man with a kindly 
face and dressed in the flowing mantle that in 
that day marked the judge and the lawyer. 

At sight of him her wildest fears were real- 


JACQUELINE 123 

ized. He was counselor to the duke of Bur¬ 
gundy, and why should he appear there except 
as the bearer of evil tidings? 

‘‘Van Borselen!” she exclaimed. 

“Yes, lady,’' he replied. “I come from his 
Highness with word for you.” 

She had expected that. With the first grat¬ 
ing sound at the door she thought of the death 
summons, yet now, for some strange reason, 
a ray of hope came. Might he, after all, be 
bearing good news instead of bad? 

The lawyer watched her with a puzzled ex¬ 
pression on his face. Perhaps the appeal in 
the beautiful eyes aroused his sympathy, for 
after a moment he said in a rich, deep-ringing 
voice, “The message I bring will give you 
freedom.” 

Freedom! The sound of that word was like 
music to her ears. Freedom to live again an 
untrammeled princess of Hainault; freedom to 
be out with the brooks and birds and the fresh, 
green-growing things; freedom to feel the cool, 
sweet winds as they blow from the four cor¬ 
ners of heaven! But when the counselor 
spoke again the glad vision vanished. 

“If you will sign away your titles and hold¬ 
ings to the duke,” he said, “he will revoke the 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


124 

sentence against you and give you liberty 
within an hour/' 

Jacqueline shook her head. Would her 
father, the proud earl of Hainault, have bought 
freedom at such a price? Was it in a craven 
way that her cousin Philippa, who became the 
famous and beautiful Queen Philippa of Eng¬ 
land, the founder of Britain's weaving in¬ 
dustry and the friend and protector of Geoffrey 
Chaucer and Jean Froissart, met the burghers 
of Ghent when they surrounded her in the 
Cloth Hall and declared they would confiscate 
the bundles that held her marriage robes? 
Often had she heard her father tell of how this 
spirited sister of his had defied the whole lot of 
them, and by her intrepid demeanor so aroused 
the admiration of the gild leader that he made 
her a gift of the purchases and gave her his 
everlasting friendship. She was proud to be 
of the same blood as that princess and would 
not by any act of cowardice sully the luster of 
the name Philippa had helped to brighten. 

‘‘No," she answered sadly. ^'Go to Philip 
and say that he may put his seal to my death- 
warrant, but Jacqueline will not surrender her 
dominions away." 

Tears came into her eyes, tears that touched 


JACQUELINE 125 

the heart of the lawyer and brought a very 
gentle look into his face. He knew how hard 
and unjust great overlords could sometimes be, 
and as he watched the captive girl who had 
done nothing to merit punishment he made a 
resolve. He knew it would be at a great cost 
to him, certainly of exile and perhaps of his 
life; but Justice spoke in his ear, and he de¬ 
termined to heed her. 

In deep, low tones he said to her: ‘‘You 
have my fealty, lady. Be not afraid to tell me 
if there is any way in which I can serve you.’' 

For a moment Jacqueline looked at him in 
mingled distrust and amazement. A hireling 
of Burgundy’s overlord approaching her with 
offers of succor ? Did treachery lie behind his 
words, and if she spoke her mind would it but 
seal her doom the more speedily? Yes, it must 
be he was that most hateful of all things, one 
feigning friendship but meaning really to do 
malice. She would shut her lips to him as 
tightly as if they were held closed by a vise. 

Without answering, she turned from him 
and moved over to the window. As she did so 
a sudden gleam of sunlight, flashing in from 
without, fell full upon the man’s face, illumi¬ 
nating both eyes and features so that for the 


126 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


moment it seemed she could read them like a 
book. No, double-dealing was not written 
upon those lineaments. Honesty was in the 
clear gray eyes. Kindliness and sympathy lay 
dormant in the curves of the lips; sympathy, 
but determination and justice, too. Almost 
instantly, as she had distrusted his offer of 
friendship, she realized there was neither 
malice nor deceit in this calm-faced judge and 
lawyer. 

“Your generosity wins my gratitude,’' she 
spoke impulsively, “although I doubt if all 
the judges in Flanders could profit the cause of 
any one in the bad graces of the duke.” 

She told of the high hope that had been hers 
when, as a free princess, she had dreamed of 
ruling over the realms of Holland, Hainault, 
and Zealand with such justice and gentleness 
as to make her people the most fortunate and 
joyful in all of Europe; told of the sound ad¬ 
vice her father had given her when in dying he 
bequeathed his dominions to her and bade her 
continue in the path of righteous rule he had 
traveled throughout his lifetime. Then, some¬ 
times with tears choking her voice, she told of 
the unhappy aftermath that came with the 
greed of Philip: passing into captivity instead 


JACQUELINE 127 

of reigning as a powerful and beloved sov¬ 
ereign, facing death at the hands of a jailer 
instead of living a buoyant life filled with the 
promise girlhood craves. 

Straightway upon her father’s death, Philip 
of Burgundy, yclept the Good by his henchmen 
but deservedly remembered as the Bad because 
of some of his ill deeds, set about scheming to 
get the girl-sovereign Jacqueline into his 
power. He influenced some of the mighty 
nobles to force her into a marriage with his 
nephew, John of Brabant, who had at best the 
brain of a fool, and through whom the duke 
knew he could rule over her holdings. 

The church decreed the union unlawful, but 
his Highness of Burgundy cared not a whit for 
that. He declared he would make laws that 
suited himself and that he would hold the 
princess to the marriage. For a while he did. 
But when drunken John mortgaged her prov¬ 
inces without so much as mentioning the mat¬ 
ter to her, Jacqueline indignantly proclaimed 
her freedom and sailed away to England. 

Then Philip snatched her lands. Duke 
Henry of Gloucester, who was brother to King 
Henry IV and a puissant man in the British 
Isles, espoused her cause. With his aid she 


128 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


set out from England with an army of a 
thousand archers, to return to Zealand and 
teach the usurping sovereign manners; and 
when she arrived in the home-land the people 
rallied to her support to the man. They 
fought so fiercely in the just cause that they 
succeeded in overcoming the duke's followers 
and held the provinces for the earl's daughter. 

But it was for a short time only. Mad¬ 
dened by defeat and goaded by determination 
to possess his cousin's broad acres, the Bur¬ 
gundian raised a larger army and came at her 
again, and this time he was victorious. 

Followed then her imprisonment in the 
tower of Ghent. Now, besides the bitterness 
of captivity, she had the bitter knowledge also 
that John of Brabant, the stupid, drunken 
youth the duke of Burgundy had ordered her to 
marry, had usurped her titles. 

All this she told to Van Borselen as they 
talked together, and although he already knew 
much of the story, he listened as if every word 
of it were new. Then he left the room, but 
he did not leave the castle. He went down the 
winding stairs to a hall under the tower, the 
windows of which held no bars, and which was 
not damp and moldy like the chamber of the 


JACQUELINE 129 

princess. It was the council-hall of the Grav- 
ensteen, but no assemblage was in session 
there—only a solitary painter busily plying his 
brushes upon a canvas that was to add beauty 
to the Burgundian’s castle halls and glory to 
his memory. With treasure wrested from 
Jacqueline, Philip set about embellishing his 
palaces with tapestries and paintings, and had 
commissioned the greatest of Flemish colorists 
to prepare some canvases for him. So it hap¬ 
pened that the artist working there was Jan 
Van Eyck, and the picture he was painting was 
the masterpiece the world knows as ‘‘The 
Adoration of the Lamb.” He and Van 
Borselen were very excellent friends. The 
counselor often stopped to chat with him and 
to note the progress of the painting. Conse¬ 
quently it was nothing more than natural that 
he should go there now. 

The picture-maker was so absorbed in what 
he was doing that he did not see the lawyer as 
he entered the room. But he stopped long 
enough to talk, and the talk was of the pitiful 
fate of the princess and was in no way compli¬ 
mentary to the duke. 

“I gave her assurance of my fealty,” Van 
Borselen said as he turned to go, “and knew 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


130 

that when you heard the truth she would have 
yours, also/' 

Van Eyck nodded and returned to his paint¬ 
ing, but he did not work in the absorbed way 
of an hour before. Several times he stopped 
and sat as if planning something. Once, on 
the leg of the easel, he marked the outline of a 
passageway. 

'Tt is a straight, short cut to the chapel," he 
murmured. ‘‘His lordship himself told me the 
secret and revealed the place of the spring did 
I ever want to work on the frescos there with¬ 
out going outside the castle and across the 
moat." 

Morning dawned with a burst of golden 
sunlight over Ghent, and sunshine such as she 
had not known in many weeks gleamed in the 
heart of Jacqueline. Down in the council- 
chamber the painter smiled and whistled. 
While up in the prison-room the serving- 
woman lilted one of the Zealand peasant songs 
she had often sung in the old, free days. And 
he who is hopeless has not the heart to sing. 

Toward noon a former serving-man of the 
princess went to Van Eyck's workshop. He 
told the guard at the Gravensteen gate that he 
came as a model, but once in the quarters of 


JACQUELINE 131 

the artist, he did not pose as models do. In 
low tones he and Van Eyck held converse to¬ 
gether and as they conversed cast cautious 
glances toward doors and windows, as if to 
assure themselves that no one overheard. 

Twilight came. Then Van Borselen ar¬ 
rived at the castle, bringing with him pages’ 
garments for two. The jailer at the door of 
Jacqueline’s prison, knowing he was the duke’s 
counselor, admitted him without question, 
especially when the judge pressed into the fel¬ 
low’s hand a very handsome gold piece. 

^'We move at midnight,” he spoke a moment 
later as he greeted the princess. ‘^All is so 
well arranged that the plan cannot go wrong. 
Before daybreak your dream of liberty will be 
realized.” 

Jacqueline did not answer, but trust and 
gratitude were in her eyes as she looked at the 
judge. She signaled her maid to follow her 
and went into her sleeping-apartment for the 
few hours of rest she knew might be the only 
ones she could obtain for several days to come. 

Night settled down over Ghent, enveloping 
it in the silence that marks a sleeping city. 
Only the wind whipping the tree-branches or 
the moan of an owl broke the silence, except. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


132 

now and then, the voice of the night-watch 
calling the hours. The lights in the windows 
had long been extinguished, but down in the 
studio of Jan Van Eyck a few tapers glimmered 
as the painter bent over the canvas of ‘'The 
Adoration of the Lamb.'' In the empty streets 
below not a footfall sounded save those of the 
guard who paced back and forth on his rounds 
to make certain that all was well. The jailer 
slept on his bench, for was not the duke's coun¬ 
selor free to come and go as he chose? More¬ 
over, was not the gold piece in his pocket as¬ 
surance that this high official believed a faith¬ 
ful warder deserves a rest period now and 
then ? There were those who might need 
watching, but not the ones who clinked coins 
freely and were in high favor with his Exalted 
Highness. 

A bolt moved, and Jacqueline's prison door 
swung open. Out of it crept Van Borselen, 
and following came two pages, one of slighter 
build and statelier carriage than any seen that 
day around the castle. They crept down the 
stairway that led to the workshop of the artist. 
As they entered it where Van Eyck and the 
model awaited them, the painter touched a 
spring that threw open a hidden door. With- 


JACQUELINE 133 

out a word he beckoned them and the model to 
follow, and into a dark and foul-smelling pas¬ 
sage they disappeared into the night. 

Jacqueline shuddered, for the slender page 
was none other than the princess, yet she did 
not hesitate as they crept forward over the 
slimy stones. Once she slipped and would 
have fallen but for the quick hand of the model 
behind her, whereupon Van Borselen whis¬ 
pered: ^'Hold thy courage, lady. This pas¬ 
sage leads to a chapel beyond the city walls. 
We shall reach it ere long.” 

Even as he spoke, however, the night-watch 
was upon them, for it happened that this secret 
avenue had a side gate of which they did not 
know, and this was kept always guarded. 

Then the artist proved he could ply cudgels 
as deftly as paint-brushes, for he laid the fel¬ 
low prone with the rod he carried, while Van 
Borselen and the serving-man despatched the 
others. Straight ahead then they pressed, and 
through the murk lights began to glimmer like 
flowers on invisible stems. 

‘‘The tapers of the chapel,” the lady of 
Hainault whispered. “Truly God is with us, 
for safety is at hand.” 

But before she had time to dwell upon the 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


134 

thought, with a mighty rush and roar came a 
sound of flowing water. Terror dulled the 
hearts of all of them, for in that moment they 
knew this underground passage connected 
with the moat, that their flight had been dis¬ 
covered at the castle, and that a hideous death 
was in store for them unless they reached the 
chapel before the current. 

The presence of mortal danger puts strength 
into body and alacrity into limbs, and they 
covered the ground with amazing swiftness. 
But upon gaining the end of the passage they 
found the chapel gate locked. The steps that 
would have lifted them to safety were on the 
other side, and the murky waters were rushing 
after them. 

It was a high gate, of heavy iron, such as 
medieval kings were wont to set about their 
shrines and crypts. Van Eyck clattered 
against it with his cudgel in the hope of dis¬ 
lodging a bolt, but this only added to their 
peril. The noise brought a band of halber¬ 
diers who set upon them fiercely and vowed 
they would take them all to the duke. But the 
judge bought off their captain with a bag of 
gold, and then the fugitives went ahead with¬ 
out danger. Beyond the city walls a company 


JACQUELINE 135 

of merchants bound for Holland, who had been 
hired by Van Borselen to meet them there, took 
her ladyship and maid into their company. 
And who would question the presence of two 
youths in a group of strolling traders? Van 
Eyck took his way back through the city to the 
studio, while Van Borselen went to the house 
of a money-lender to arrange about financing 
a campaign against the duke. He meant to 
support Jacqueline by force of arms as well 
as get her to safety, and he needed only word 
that she was safely across the Dutch border 
before striking the blow. 

Three days later the message came. 

Then the princess marshaled her armies. 
Peasants from Hainault and Zealand who had 
loved the old earl, and who cherished a like 
affection for his daughter, flocked to her stand¬ 
ard with fine loyalty. 

^Hhe princess will command the forces in 
person!” This word sped like wild-fire to the 
four corners of her dominions, and as the mes¬ 
sage went forth soldiers seemed to rise out of 
the ground to rally to her support. With 
lance and spear they came from the farthest 
nooks of Holland, shouting wild fealty to the 
girl who had the courage to strike at the duke 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


136 

of Burgundy in an attempt to regain her pos¬ 
sessions. Unwaveringly as ever men followed 
a commander these huskies rode at the word of 
Jacqueline, shouting as they moved forward 
the watchword of the Hainault house, ‘‘Die, 
but flinch never!’’ 

They swept along the Zealand plains. They 
met Philip and his hirelings on mead and hill 
and morass, fighting him with fortunes some¬ 
times favorable and sometimes bad. For two 
years the princess struggled on, braving the 
hardship of camp and battle-field like a com¬ 
mon soldier and uttering no word of complaint. 
But the superior numbers of the duke’s forces 
gave him the advantage, and town after town 
went down before the Burgundian standard. 

There came a day when the princess could 
hold out no longer. Weakened, sick, and with 
but the broken remnant of an army, she was 
forced to yield and to acknowledge Philip of 
Burgundy lord of her provinces. 

But fortune smiled at last, even though it 
had wrested from her both titles and lands. 
The night she fled from the tower of Ghent 
she learned something of the fine loyalty of 
Frank Van Borselen, and during the warring 
months that followed she came to know the 


JACQUELINE 137 

great, true heart of the man. For Van Bor- 
selen thought not of profit to himself but only 
of what profited the princess. When she was 
sore pressed for funds with which to continue 
her campaigns, he placed his own great for¬ 
tune at her disposal, and when the greed of 
Philip made her homeless he persuaded her to 
make use of his Dutch castle of Martinsdijk 
as freely as if it had been her own holding. 
And having suffered much because of treach¬ 
ery, it was good to find a loyal and unselfish 
soul. 

So the counselor and the princess were mar¬ 
ried and began life anew in a chateau at the 
Hague, thinking little of the troubled years be¬ 
hind them but much of the roseate ones ahead. 
But Philip of Burgundy meant it should not be 
so. Once again he came with lance and horse, 
and this time put Van Borselen into prison. 

Then Jacqueline, no longer the proud noble¬ 
woman but a very grief-stricken lady, went 
humbly to his Highness and agreed to give up 
every foot of the property she still possessed, 
and every bit of both money and treasure, if 
he would but free her husband. And the Bur¬ 
gundian, his, greed satisfied after having 
wrested all from her, promised her freedom 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


138 

from any further molestation. Whereupon 
she and Van Borselen went to live at his castle 
of Martinsdijk, and there they stayed for 
twenty happy months until death put an end 
to the career of one of the fairest, bravest, and 
most ill-fortuned princesses of the Middle 
Ages. 

And Jan Van Eyck, was he punished by the 
lord of Burgundy for the part he took in the 
escape of the lady? Nobody knows. Per¬ 
haps the duke never found out how much the 
artist had to do with her break to freedom; 
perhaps he prized the genius of the painter so 
highly that he forgave the acts of the man. 
We know only that Jan stayed in the employ 
of this overlord for a long time afterward, 
making many canvases and frescos and adding 
such luster to the name of Philip that it gleams 
far more brightly as a patron of art than as 
a sovereign. And always he spoke with rev¬ 
erence of the high-born captive he guided to 
liberty. 

‘‘She has an eye that would adorn an angel,’’ 
he wrote to Van Borselen in marriage greeting, 
“and is withal a most gracious, faire, and 
sweete ladie.’’ 

And who, better than a painter, could know? 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 




VII 

YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 

T housands of people do not even know 
her name, yet if it had not been for her 
Joan of Arc might never have ridden to the 
siege of Orleans, and perhaps Christopher 
Columbus would not have sailed westward in 
1492. 

Her father was lord of the great Spanish 
kingdom of Aragon, and so of course she was 
a princess and lived in a castle as splendid as 
any one would care to possess. Yet Yolanda 
was anything but happy, and one bright April 
morning, when daffodils and azaleas gleamed 
like jewels in the spring-sweet valleys, she 
wished she had been born a peasant and wore 
a homespun smock, instead of satin court 
dresses, all because the royal counselors had 
declared she would have to marry a prince she 
never had seen. 

Louis of Provence and Anjou was the lad 
who had been chosen for her husband, and the 
141 


142' 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


ministers said he was as comely and likable a 
youth as ever wore squire’s apparel. But 
courtiers are apt to tell such tales when they 
want a princess to marry somebody because it 
serves their interests. Yolanda had associated 
with princes as far back as she could remember 
and knew that some of them had shockingly 
bad manners, to say nothing of their being so 
homely one would want to hide them in a closet 
if company came. How was she to know 
Louis would not prove to be one of the undesir¬ 
able kind? She went up to her room in the 
tower and cried a little and thought a great 
deal about how she should like to be a shep¬ 
herdess or dairymaid, and free to choose her 
husband, instead of being handed over to one 
whom she did not want and who, very likely, 
did not want her, just to keep a few greedy 
rulers from going to war. 

At that very same time, in the French city 
of Angers, young Louis of Provence and An¬ 
jou was so indignant that he threatened to give 
up his throne and turn soldier of fortune or 
even brigand if that would save him from a 
marriage with Lady Yolanda of Aragon—a 
state of mind, you know, that Yolanda had 
foreseen. Then the pleasure-loving nobility 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 143 

on both sides of the Pyrenees repaired to the 
Flower Festival of Montpellier. And just as 
when you go to a circus you leave your troubles 
behind, so both Yolanda and Louis forgot their 
indignation in the excitement of attending the 
fete. 

Montpellier in the fifteenth century was as 
delightful a spot as one could imagine. In 
the warmest and sunniest part of France it 
stood, near enough to the Mediterranean so 
that its airs were always touched with balm¬ 
iness, with a background of hills that were to¬ 
paz and magenta by sunrise and sunset, and 
that made the white palaces and convent walls 
seem pearls in jeweled settings. No town of 
Europe knew greater prosperity than Mont¬ 
pellier, for the wealth of the world came in on 
her river, small two-oared flatboats bearing 
the spices and laces of the east, marbles and 
glass of Italy, laces and textiles from the Low 
Countries, and furs and wax from Russia. 
They were borne in cumbersome bundles from 
heavily laden barges sailing up the Rhone, and 
in exchange for them the town gave the wine 
and cream of tartar, the verdigris and soap, 
for which it is still famous. 

The happiness of the people of Montpellier 


144 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


was as great as their prosperity, for they were 
southern Frenchmen, you know, and a Belgian 
poet once said that every Frenchman of the 
south country has a piece of rainbow in his 
heart. They had concerts and promenades 
and circuses in the public plaza every week 
throughout the summer-time; and once each 
year, when the glens were blossom-mottled and 
the swift-moving Lez turned amber with silt 
from the Herault and Aveyron hills, the 
Flower Festival was held, and that brought 
crowds from Italy, Spain, Germany, and even 
Portugal and Greece. To miss the blossom 
fete of Montpellier in Yolanda of Aragon^s 
day was like staying away from a great world’s 
fair in our own time. 

Exactly how it happened nobody seems to 
know. Some of the old historians say it came 
about through sheer accident. Others think 
the indignation of Louis at being told he must 
marry Yolanda made him so curious he de¬ 
termined to find out for himself if she were 
hideous or lovely, and to do it before leaving 
Montpellier. 

At any rate, one afternoon when the young 
nobles lounged along the river promenade and 
amused themselves by tossing coins to the 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 145 

bright-skirted orange-women, Louis quitted 
them for a solitary stroll and, looking down 
from a cliif overhanging the water into a 
shadowy, walled garden, saw a sensitive, beau¬ 
tiful face. 

An hour later, in the happiest of moods, he 
rejoined his companions, and that night word 
went forth that the count of Provence and 
Anjou would willingly wed the Aragon prin¬ 
cess, for it was she he had seen but a little 
while before among the flowers. 

So these two were married and repaired to 
the castle of Angers on the Maine, where, for 
miles around, peasants told of a countess who 
adored her lord and a lord his countess, and 
whose life together was marked by happiness 
seldom found among the great. When their 
first two children were born, and when, some 
nine years later a second boy came who was 
christened Rene, there was rejoicing through¬ 
out two southern provinces. 

Yolanda of Aragon was beautiful in face 
and figure, but she might have died without 
being very celebrated had she not possessed a 
loveliness of character and mind that laid the 
foundation of some very splendid things. Un¬ 
der the influence of this mother young Rene 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


146 

grew to be an ideal prince, loved by the humble 
as well as the high-born because of his kindly 
nature and pleasant ways. He was taken 
from his mother when very young, for he 
shared the fate of all royal youths of his day, 
and when, at the age of twelve, he was be¬ 
trothed to ten-year-old Isabelle of Lorraine, 
the agreement required that he be brought up 
in the household of Duke Charles of Lorraine. 
So he left his home in Angers for one neither 
so wholesome nor so happy, and many, many 
times he yearned for the delightful atmosphere 
of its halls. 

But Yolanda's touch upon the soul and char¬ 
acter of her son had already left an imprint 
that contact with corrupt politicians could not 
efface. When the wheel of destiny took an 
unexpected turn and he became ruler of three 
countries instead of being just an obscure 
southern noble, which for a time his position of 
younger son promised he would be, he went to 
his throne with a determination to possess it 
for the good of France. He had his faults, 
but Rene never swerved from the high am¬ 
bition to be a good king, and he devoted him¬ 
self to plans of benefaction and chivalry that 
made Provence an example to the whole of 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 147 

France. By encouraging poets throughout 
his dominions he strove to reestablish the glo¬ 
rious reign of the troubadours. Minstrels who 
could find aid and shelter nowhere else were 
certain of obtaining it at the court of Yolanda’s 
son, and we find him surrounded by the most 
illustrious spirits of his day, among them the 
golden-voiced Francois Villon. And several 
times, even before he became a king, he un¬ 
sheathed his sword and risked his life in sup¬ 
port of a peasant, guileless as Villon never 
dreamed of being, and a hundred times more 
divinely inspired. 

February of 1428, and strange tides of fate 
surged against Robert de Baudricourt, gov¬ 
ernor of Vaucouleurs. From the Domremy 
uplands came a shepherd-girl with word that 
heavenly voices had spoken to her in the hills, 
bidding her deliver France from invading 
Briton and Burgundian. 

‘Tt was St. Michael himself who appeared 
to me,” she said as she told her story to Bau¬ 
dricourt, ^'and I am come to ask that you guide 
me to the dauphin.” 

The governor had no faith in her. He de¬ 
clared she had better go back to her flocks in¬ 
stead of trying to roam highways peasant feet 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


148 

were not intended to travel; and he suggested 
that her uncle, who had made the journey with 
her, take her home and trounce her soundly. 

Despite threats and jeers, however, Joan of 
Arc held to her purpose. Although they 
forced her out of Vaucouleurs and back to 
Domremy, she fared forth again, and again 
Baudricourt commanded a servant to send her 
from his door. But as the man turned to do 
his master’s bidding something happened that 
sped forward the girl’s course of destiny. 

Seated with the governor that morning was 
a friend who had come from Angers several 
days before, and that friend was none other 
than Rene, son of Yolanda of Aragon. He 
was a brilliant and handsome young noble now, 
of a little past twenty, blithe of spirit and 
kindly of nature as he had been in his child¬ 
hood days. He and Baudricourt were devoted 
friends, although the governor was years older 
than the young count, and it was well known 
that Rene could influence that obstinate official 
when he was deaf to every other appeal. Al¬ 
ready they had talked of Joan’s first visit to 
Vaucouleurs. Rene had picked up from the 
villagers some of • the girl’s strange sayings, 
and these had set him to wondering about the 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 149 

force that inspired her. He was eager to see 
and talk with this unusual peasant, and when 
Baudricourt gave word to send her away he 
urged him not to act speedily. 

‘‘She may be an impostor for aught I know,’’ 
the governor replied impatiently. 

The son of Yolanda of Aragon sat silent a 
moment. Then he shook his head. “She 
seems not so to me,” he objected, “since threat 
of punishment does not daunt her and she 
comes again, asking nothing for herself but 
all for France.” 

Robert de Baudricourt shifted uneasily. 
The irresistible sincerity of the shepherd-girl’s 
appeal had disturbed him much, but he was de¬ 
termined not to grant her request because of 
the danger of appearing ridiculous in the eyes 
of the dauphin and the court. 

“Not impostor,” he answered sullenly, “but 
possessed of brain-sick delusions. I will have 
no more of her.” 

Rene faced the governor squarely and spoke 
in a voice that rang with earnestness: 

“But, Robert, may it not be as she declares ? 
Long ago it was foretold that France would 
be imperiled by a woman and saved by a 
woman. And I recall also another prophecy 


I 

150 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

that leads me to be tolerant of this maid, which 
says, 'A virgin who shall deliver France will 
come out of the forest of Domremy/ Very 
often in childhood it was told to me by my 
mother, in whose judgment I have high faith. 
I doubt not, did she know of this shepherd- 
girl, she would aid her.’’ 

The pleading of Rene finally influenced Bau- 
dricourt so that he gave word Joan of Arc 
might remain in the village. A wheelwright 
opened his house to her, and there Rene him¬ 
self talked with her several times, each con¬ 
versation convincing him still more of the sin¬ 
cerity and high purpose of the girl’s mission. 
When at last the governor promised to send 
word of her to the dauphin, Rene sped a cour¬ 
ier to his mother, Yolanda of Aragon, who was 
just then visiting her daughter at Chinon; for 
Marie, wife of the dauphin, was born Marie of 
Provence and Anjou and was therefore Rene’s 
sister. 

''Urge my brother-in-law to receive her,” he 
wrote, "for mayhap the message that she 
brings may be an auspicious one for France.” 

Now, the castle of Chinon, at which Charles 
was then abiding, was a sumptuous and desir¬ 
able place for the pleasure-loving dauphin, and 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 151 

he had no intention of leaving it for the un¬ 
certainty of a coronation. He laughed heart¬ 
ily at the idea of a peasant girl giving him aid, 
and suggested, as Baudricourt had done, that 
she had better go back to her flock. But the 
influence of Yolanda and Rene bore fruit, and 
he was persuaded to receive the girl, although 
he looked upon her coming as nothing more 
than a novel happening which would provide a 
bit of amusement for himself and his courtiers. 

Everybody knows what happened when Joan 
of Arc went to Chinon, how ridicule gave way 
to awe and awe to reverent wonder, and how 
the sincerity of the maid’s appeal overcame 
obstacles it seemed no mortal power could sur¬ 
mount. But only those who have studied 
carefully the history of France know it was 
Yolanda of Aragon who paved the way for her 
success and made possible what seemed, for a 
time, beyond the range of possibility. 

When Charles, who had received Joan in 
merriment, was awed even as the villagers of 
Vaucouleurs had been, and arrogant lords 
turned humble and expressed willingness to 
ride under her command, one mighty obstacle 
stood in the way of arming for the siege of 
Orleans. That was the emptiness of the royal 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


152 

treasury, for money was as necessary to kings 
in the fifteenth century as it is to untitled Amer¬ 
icans to-day. But Yolanda of Aragon’s fer¬ 
tile brain saw a way of solving the problem, 
and with splendid unselfishness she proceeded 
to put the plan into execution. Rich in gems, 
but just then poor in money, this great lady 
pawned her jewels and, with the sum obtained 
by the loan, paid for a convoy of ships that was 
sent to Blois to aid the land forces. Other 
ladies of the French court followed her ex¬ 
ample. Thus, by the women of the royalty, 
the campaign was financed, and Joan of Arc 
went to victory and the dauphin to a throne. 

Meanwhile, Rene, who had pleaded with 
Baudricourt to let the maid remain in the vil¬ 
lage, and who had interested his mother in her 
behalf, gave all his support and loyalty to her. 
When she mounted her charger and rode to 
the siege of Orleans he followed close behind. 
During the fighting before Paris, when a Bur¬ 
gundian arrow struck Joan in the thigh, he 
was one of the two knights who rescued her 
from the moat and carried her to safety. He 
marched with the French nobles up the nave 
of Rheims to the coronation of Charles, divid¬ 
ing his homage that day between the sovereign 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 153 

and the maid. When fortune turned for Joan 
and she fell captive to the Burgundians, and, 
by purchase, to the English, again Rene sped a 
courier to his mother, that she might act in 
her defense. And Yolanda of Aragon did not 
fail him. She publicly proclaimed her belief 
in the divine mission of the girl, and paid her 
homage as if she herself were the shepherdess 
and the maid of Domremy the daughter of a 
proud line. With two other great ladies of 
France, she testified in her behalf when Joan’s 
persecutors gave her a mock trial, and bent all 
her energy toward trying to persuade the king 
to make some move to save her. Had the ap¬ 
peal of Yolanda of Aragon been heeded, the 
Maid of Orleans would not have gone to the 
funeral pyre at Rouen. 

Yolanda of Aragon lived to be an old woman 
and died in the satisfaction of knowing that 
her life had been a benefit to France. But she 
did not know that her willingness to aid a 
peasant girl was to play a mighty part in 
changing the map of the world and reconstruct¬ 
ing history. 

Yet it did that very thing, for the pawning 
of the jewels of the house of Anjou not only 
sent Joan of Arc to victory at Orleans and the 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


154 

dauphin to a throne but put new life into navi¬ 
gation and carried the flag of commerce over 
reaches of sea where never a ship had sailed. 
It gave a world to Spain and opened harbors 
of refuge to the oppressed of every land, be¬ 
cause, about sixty years later, when Isabella 
of Castile longed to aid Christopher Columbus 
but had no money and no ships, she thought of 
how her kinswoman, Yolanda of Aragon, had 
once replenished the empty French treasury 
and followed her example. She, too, offered 
to pledge her jewels, and her decision roused 
some Spanish nobles and merchants from in¬ 
difference to action and sent the navigator on 
his great voyage of discovery. 

And what of the son who had championed 
the cause of Joan every bit as ardently as the 
mother ? 

Down in the sun-flooded Rhone country, in 
that land through which, in olden times, trou¬ 
badours strolled and sang, they speak of him 
as Good King Rene, and in an ivy-covered 
church near Tarascon there is a curiously 
written and illuminated manuscript, done by a 
devoted scribe of long ago, that tells how he 
wept when word reached him that the shep- 


YOLANDA SHOWS THF WAY 155 

herdess had been declared a witch and was 
doomed to death by fire. 

‘'Did I have the gold to muster a great 
army/’ he is said to have exclaimed, “I would 
lead it in her defense.” 

But at that time Rene was not yet a king, 
and it would have taken the wealth of several 
kings to save Joan. 

Then, almost before anybody realized, he 
was forced to draw for his own protection the 
sword he had wielded so gallantly in support of 
the maid. Under the French law of that day, 
his marriage to Isabelle of Lorraine had made 
him duke of Bar and Lorraine, and now the 
death of his father-in-law put him into pos¬ 
session of broad estates. But a prince named 
Antoine de Vaudemont claimed the right to the 
Lorraine succession, and he enlisted the aid of 
the powerful duke of Burgundy, who was de¬ 
lighted to assail Rene because of his support of 
Joan of Arc. At Bulgneville Yolanda’s son 
was attacked by an army several times larger 
than his own, and although he fought so gal¬ 
lantly that poets sang of it for several genera¬ 
tions afterward, he suffered a defeat that shut 
him up a prisoner in a Burgundian tower. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


156 

While he languished there the wheel of destiny 
took an unexpected turn, and things happened 
that were to exalt him to the rank of a power¬ 
ful sovereign. His brother Louis died; by his 
death Rene succeeded to the vast fiefs held by 
their father, who was one of the most power¬ 
ful nobles of his time, and succeeded also to the 
titles of duke of Anjou, count of Provence, 
and king of the Two Sicilies. Then his wife 
Isabelle secured his liberty by paying the duke 
of Burgundy an enormous ransom. After a 
year of captivity Rene stepped into the sun¬ 
light of freedom again and journeyed south to 
take charge of his possessions. 

To think of this king as lord of Provence, 
Anjou, Sicily, and Naples is to picture a pow¬ 
erful and sumptuous monarch and a very 
happy one. And so he would have been had 
not envious nobles coveted his holdings and 
left no means untried of getting them away 
from him. Almost constantly he was forced 
to carry on defensive wars, and as the payment 
of the great ransom demanded by the duke of 
Burgundy had almost halved his fortune he 
was financially unable to equip his armies for 
long and fiercely contested campaigns. He 
was forced to surrender his possessions in 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 157 

Italy to the king of Aragon and retained only 
his French holdings. 

Then he returned to the land he loved, and 
there, in the sunshine of Provence and in the 
sunshine of the smiles of adoring subjects, he 
devoted his energies to the arts of peace. He 
made the old castles of Tarascon and Aix, 
which were his favorite residence and capital 
respectively, the places of delight of the Rhone 
Valley, for he embellished both halls and gar¬ 
dens with such taste that they still feed the 
souls of beauty-loving folk five centuries after 
his day. If fate had not forced him to be a 
sovereign, he probably would have become a 
famous artist, for in every town and palace he 
inhabited he left touches that speak eloquently 
of his delight in creating things. During his 
captive months in Burgundy he had come to 
know Jan Van Eyck and the early Flemish 
painters. In Italy the work of the predeces¬ 
sors of Botticelli and Perugino had thrilled 
and interested him, and now he encouraged the 
most notable artists of the century to come to 
Provence, and through his friendly patronage 
they left finger-prints of imperishable loveli¬ 
ness along the entire southern course of the 
Rhone. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


158 

But it was at Tarascon that his heart seemed 
to rest; Tarascon, where he took his relaxation 
from the state cares of Aix; that very same 
Tarascon where Tartarin had visions of 
mighty lion-hunts, and from which he went to 
Africa to charge wild monsters that proved 
to be nothing fiercer than donkeys; Tarascon, 
where the Midi sunshine has magic and magni- 
fying qualities, and things seem as they seem 
nowhere else on earth. Memories of this 
gifted king linger throughout the south coun¬ 
try, but at Tarascon they are most fragrant 
and vivid, for there he was not just the sov¬ 
ereign but the man he desired to be. There 
he painted pictures, wrote and illuminated mis¬ 
sals, some of which are still to be seen in mu¬ 
seums thereabout, and did treatises on litera¬ 
ture, heraldry, or chess. There he entertained 
poets, made songs himself, and urged those 
around him to express their thoughts in verse 
upon canvas; for the sovereign’s love of cre¬ 
ating spread even to his courtiers, and on the 
lowest floor of the castle is a chamber with 
walls decorated by his pages and men-at-arms. 
Quaint imagery it is, one bit portraying a ves¬ 
sel with lateen sails such as bore the mighty 
commerce of the Rhone in that day. Then 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY 159 

there were drawings that perpetuate the can¬ 
nons and munitions of the period, the faces of 
the lords and ladies who strolled in the gaf- 
den, and some of the minstrels who traveled 
from realm to realm throughout France and 
Spain, but lingered longest at the court of 
Rene, for reasons it does not take much guess¬ 
ing to find out. 

Beside being a patron of art and letters, the 
friend and supporter of Joan of Arc, and a 
very sympathetic and kindly king, Rene of 
Provence, founded the Order of the Crescent, 
one of the three great orders of chivalry, 
whose knights, like those of the Garter and the 
Golden Fleece, were to vie with each other in 
doing noble deeds. The men of the Crescent 
were sworn to keep peace and charity between 
themselves and their sovereign, to be faithful 
to their religion, never to desert their flag in 
battle, to succor the unfortunate, the poor, and 
the distressed, to speak no scandal nor to listen 
to it. Once each year, at Tarascon, they held 
a festival which was a kind of tournament and 
one of the most brilliant of the many brilliant 
affairs of that day. Did lances break, the sov¬ 
ereign himself took fresh ones into the arena; 
and each night, when the jousting was over, 


i6o GIRLHOOD STORIES 

there was a banquet on the terraces overhang¬ 
ing the Rhone and food for everybody. So it 
was little wonder that throughout southern 
France people of both high and low degree 
looked forward each year to the Festival of 
the Crescent Knights. 

These men did something more than vie in 
the lists; for Rene held them strictly to their 
vows, and happiness spread from high subjects 
to the humble. Yet it went steadily out of the 
heart of the king, who lived to see his broad 
possessions swept from him, and misfortune 
grip his children in its clutches with pitiless 
grasp. His son John, duke of Calabria, was 
poisoned in Spain. Across the British Chan¬ 
nel his daughter Margaret, who, through her 
marriage to King Henry VI became Queen 
Margaret of England, was imprisoned through 
the train of treachery and deceit that culmi¬ 
nated in the Wars of the Roses. She was shut 
up in London Tower, from which prison, for 
five anguished years, her father strove to ob¬ 
tain her release. Memories of his own con¬ 
finement under the duke of Burgundy had left 
deep scars, and the thought of a like fate for 
his child broke his heart. Finally, by mighty 
sacrifice, he obtained her liberty. He sold 


YOLANDA SHOWS THE WAY i6i 


Provence for less than half its value in order 
to procure the money demanded for Margaret’s 
ransom. Too poor to afford even the cost of 
a retinue, the dethroned queen started back to 
the land of her birth, from which she had gone 
a few years before with royal pomp, and, but 
for an escort provided by the king of France, 
would have gone back unattended. Penniless 
and heartbroken—for her son had been mur¬ 
dered in England, the land of her childhood, 
had, as the price of her liberty, lost its freedom, 
and her father had become impoverished in his 
old age—she repaired to the castle of Reculee, 
not far from that of Angers, where she had 
been born. 

There she spent her solitary widowhood, and 
there sometimes came Rene, white-haired now 
and somewhat bent but the same sympathetic, 
warm-hearted Rene who wept when Joan of 
Arc went to her funeral pyre. And there he 
found solace in his sorrow by ornamenting the 
wall and gardens with bits of sculpture. 

But always he dreamed of Provence, the 
land of the corn-colored river, and of the 
barges with their sails of silk and ropes of 
sendal whose passing had gladdened his eyes. 
And when the lights of life began to glimmer 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


162 

dimly he went again to the valley of the Rhone, 
where he died just twelve years before Colum¬ 
bus discovered America, still true to the prin¬ 
ciples of his childhood, the worthy son of Yo¬ 
landa of Aragon and the best-loved sovereign 
who ever ruled in the south. He was brave in 
misfortune and generous in success, and al¬ 
though the last years of his life were years of 
unhappiness, he moved through them with the 
serenity and dignity of a truly noble soul. 

Five centuries have passed since he reigned 
beside the yellow river, and independent Prov¬ 
ence is only a tradition now, yet his influence 
is still felt there; and there, to this day, he is 
justly revered as Good King Rene. And 
along with his memory is one, equally fragrant, 
of a woman, once a comely-faced and some¬ 
what rebellious princess in the Spanish land 
of Aragon, later the warm-hearted consort of 
a powerful duke of Anjou—Yolanda, who be¬ 
lieved in a Domremy shepherdess and showed 
the way. 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 









VIII 

ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 

IRE/’ a voice called pleadingly, ’ve lost 
O my way. I ’ll give you a purse of gold if 
you will guide me to the palace, for it will cost 
me the worth of many gold pieces if I am not 
there before the seventh hour.” 

It was a girl who spoke, a tiny slip of a miss 
who seemed about fifteen, and although a wolf¬ 
skin cloak wrapped, her from neck to ankle, 
she shivered as she stood there in the January 
blast. 

Young Raimbault de Vainteur stopped in 
the midst of the ballad he was whistling and 
looked at her curiously, wondering who she 
might be, and how she came to be alone in 
the Marche du Vendredi, the tangled grove 
that during the early part of the fifteenth cen¬ 
tury served as the great public park of Bruges. 
He wondered still more as she raised her hand 
to brush back a wisp of hair that had blown 
across her face, for upon it glittered a signet- 

165 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


i66 

ring that bore the lions of Burgundy. That 
meant she belonged to a royal house, and 
daughters of royalty did not go into the street 
unattended. 

‘'The squire de Vainteur does not require 
the guerdon of a gold piece for rendering ser¬ 
vice to a maid,’' young Raimbault returned 
courteously, “so with right good will I '11 guide 
you to the palace.” 

The girl came closer as he spoke, and then he 
noticed that she had the olive skin and dark 
hair and eyes of the south. 

“Portuguese,” he thought. “Very likely she 
is one of the maidens in waiting to Isabella of 
Portugal and has been ^ent to the market¬ 
place upon some errand for the princess.” 

That would explain the ring with the im¬ 
perial lions. Philip of Burgundy was to take 
a bride on the morrow, and his fiancee was the 
fair young daughter of King John of Portugal. 
Three days earlier she had arrived from Lis¬ 
bon with her train to make ready for the mar¬ 
riage. Without doubt this lass was one of her 
maidens and as a member of the suite of the 
future duchess would be entitled to the protec¬ 
tion of the royal crest whithersoever she might 

go- 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 167 

A look of relief came into the girl’s black 
eyes with the knowledge that the stranger was 
a gentleman and would aid her. She laughed 
in a mischievous way and said: “I ran away. 
It has been great fun to prowl about the streets 
just as I pleased and listen to the chatter of 
the people. But the afternoon is almost spent, 
and it will not be so merry for me if those at 
the palace discover I am gone.” 

Raimbault was only a boy himself, for it was 
not yet four years since he had been dubbed 
squire, and that always happened when a lad 
was fourteen. But he made a show of great 
dignity, for a squire becomes a knight in time, 
and true knights must ever be champions of 
good conduct. 

‘'You ought to be shaken for doing anything 
so heedless as running away, and then hurried 
to your mistress for the scolding you deserve,” 
he said sternly. 

For an instant the girl looked at him in a 
dumfounded way, but it was only for an in¬ 
stant. The next moment a laugh rang out 
that sounded buoyantly through the grove. 

“My mistress indeed I” she exclaimed. “Oh, 
how funny! Whosoever shakes me will have 
to reckon with Duke Philip, not to mention 


i68 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


his Majesty of Portugal, who is my father/’ 

It was Raimbault’s turn to look amazed now, 
and the way in which he did it made his eyes 
seem several times their usual size. 

''John of Portugal your father ?” he repeated, 
as if doubting what he had heard. 

"To be sure,” came the laughing retort, 
"since I am Isabella.” 

Now, sternly to uphold proper and conven¬ 
tional conduct was a commendable thing in a 
youth of that day. But to scold the daughter 
of one sovereign and the promised bride of an¬ 
other was a very different matter. Waves of 
heat and cold alternately surged over the boy 
as he remembered that men had been sent to 
prison for lesser offenses. 

But plainly this royal maiden had no inten¬ 
tion of trouble-making, for when she saw how 
grave he looked she called brightly: "Oh, 
come! Don’t turn into a ghost, for I mean not 
to go tittle-tattling just because you spoke 
sharply to me. You were quite right, I dare 
say. Tell me,” she added, "what was the song 
you were whistling when I called to you? It 
made me think of some of the sailing-ballads 
my brother Enrico used to sing. Does it hap¬ 
pen that you, too, know the sea?” 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 169 

Raimbaiilt’s face glowed. 

^^Know it!’’ came the eager answer. ‘‘My 
cradle rocked on the Biscay shore, and when I 
was a little fellow nothing seemed so splendid 
as the thought of becoming a sailor. But fa¬ 
ther said seafaring was not a calling for a 
nobleman’s son, so I began training for knight¬ 
hood. But even yet sometimes,” he added 
wistfully, “it seems the ocean is calling to me, 
and I want to be off in a boat.” 

Isabella nodded as if she understood. 

“I know,” she said gently. “That is what 
my father said to Enrico [Henry]. ‘Seafar¬ 
ing is for the low-born,’ I have heard him de¬ 
clare over and over. But brother loved it so 
much he could not stay at home, and he has 
taken such long and dangerous voyages that 
people call him ‘the Navigator.’ Nothing 
pleases him so much as to sail where men say 
ships cannot go, and when he is n’t sailing he is 
hunting up wise folk to make maps for him. 
Oh, Enrico is mad about the sea,” she added 
with enthusiasm, “and knows all about those 
who have fared far upon it. Often when we 
were alone he told me stories of the bold Vene¬ 
tian, Marco Polo, who journeyed to Tartary, 
and of the bold Venetians following him who 


170 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

roved the Mediterranean. I shall miss Enrico 
here in Burgundy/^ she added regretfully. 

''But you will be a sovereign/' Raimbault 
exclaimed consolingly, "and a sovereign ex¬ 
alted as any Europe knows, for Philip is a 
ruler of mighty power." 

At the mention of the duke's name Isabella 
started as if she had been struck. 

"Oh," she exclaimed in a frightened way, 
"here we stand talking as if time matters not 
at all, and it is almost dark. To-morrow is 
my wedding day, which means that to-night at 
seven the mistress of the robes comes with my 
marriage garments. I shall be in a sorry 
plight if I am not at the palace by that time." 

Raimbault de Vainteur was a youth to whom 
no one in trouble need apply twice, and he de¬ 
termined that the princess should not be late. 
He had lived almost two years in Bruges and 
knew the place well, and so, hurrying Isabella 
by a short route across the city, they reached 
the palace gate in less than an hour. The prin¬ 
cess drew her heavy cloak well up about her 
face, and at sight of the signet-ring the guards 
admitted her without question, very likely 
thinking, as the squire had thought a short 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 171 

time before, that she was one of the ladies in 
waiting of the duke^s fiancee. Raimbault 
watched the massive iron portal swung behind 
her, and then he made his way through the 
murky streets to the home of the knight he 
served, wondering if he would ever have an¬ 
other chat with this likable girl. He little 
dreamed of happenings during the years to 
come that would draw them closely together. 

Well, Duke Philip and Isabella were mar¬ 
ried in the great cathedral of St.-Sauveur, and 
never did sweeter bride speak vows or a nobler 
assemblage hear them; for as he was a sover¬ 
eign of great might, lords from every province 
of Germany, France, and Britain came to do 
homage to his Majesty of Burgundy upon his 
wedding day. To be sure, this powerful liege 
lord was not over-loved by his subjects, for he 
had made West Flanders a part of his domain 
by stealing it from his cousin Jacqueline and 
shutting her up in prison, and their loyalty was 
with the rightful owner. 

But the smile of the Portuguese girl won 
their hearts, partly because they thought it a 
pity, she being so fair and young, that she 
should wed a man of ripe years who had had 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


172 

two wives already. So they shouted with the 
knights, ‘'Vive Isabella!” and threw clusters of 
flowers as the imperial carriage went by. 

Several days passed. Then over Bruges the 
Beautiful sped a message that caused as much 
excitement as word of the ruler’s marriage had 
caused a short time before. 

“Philip will establish an order of chivalry 
in honor of his bride,” lackeys called along 
every street and highroad; “and this order shall 
be known to the world as the Golden Fleece.” 

Ever since the dawn of the days of knight¬ 
hood there had been orders of chivalry in Eu¬ 
rope. These were associations of knights 
bound by solemn religious vows to be honorable 
in all their dealings, gently demeanored toward 
the poor and unfortunate, to uphold the church, 
and to be loyal to each other. There was the 
Order of Christ in Spain; the Order of the 
Bath and the Order of the Garter in England; 
and the Order of the Thistle in Scotland. Be¬ 
sides these there were several other brother¬ 
hoods of knighthood, and the members of each 
tried to make his own order the most glorious 
of all by doing the most splendid deeds. Noth¬ 
ing could bring more honor to a sovereign than 
to establish a new order of chivalry, and when 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 173 

it became known that Philip would do that very 
thing the joy of the people knew no bounds. 
What was more fitting than that it should be 
called the Golden Fleece? It was in search of 
a fleece of gold that the men of Greece had 
fared eastward many centuries before, and so 
the name was a synonym for high adventure. 
And fleeces from the sheep of Flanders had 
built up the mighty cloth trade that had made 
the country rich. 

Philip of Burgundy did not always keep his 
promises, but he did keep the one about the 
establishment of a new order of chivalry. 
The morning of January 10, in the year of our 
Lord 1430, dawned gloriously fair, and it wit¬ 
nessed a sight of splendor such as few places 
have witnessed before or since. Even the 
pomp of the royal wedding was pale beside the 
magnificence that attended the procession of 
knights into the cathedral to witness the chosen 
ones taking the vow. There were but five and 
twenty of these, and they were of the high¬ 
est rank in Burgundy. As they knelt and 
spoke the oath they promised to be generous 
and kindly-demeanored as knights should be. 
They were to be immune from all the laws of 
the land, but if one of them broke a law of 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


174 

God or of the order he was to be tried by a 
tribunal of his brother knights and punished as 
few sovereigns would punish. 

Philip himself was one of the number, and 
as humbly as any of the others did his Majesty 
take the vows. Perhaps at the time he made 
the promise he meant it. Who knows? But 
a few months later, as he warred against the 
dauphin of France, it seemed as if he held his 
royal word of no value whatever. 

You know how the shepherd-girl the world 
calls Joan of Arc led the French forces to vic¬ 
tory when despair alone seemed to be in store 
for them, and how finally she fell into the 
hands of the Burgundians, through whom she 
went to her death. It was the soldiers of 
Philip who captured her—Philip, who but a 
season before had sworn gentleness and honor 
as a knight of the Fleece. But what did he 
then? 

In his velvet-hung castle he laughed when 
word of the capture of the Maid was brought 
to him, but old chronicles say Isabella turned 
pale as ermine. She was very little older than 
Joan herself, and the thought of the maid who 
had led her flock through the uplands and 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 175 

heard voices as she watched them touched her 
heart. 

^Tree her, my lord,’’ she begged, when her 
royal husband gave her the message the cour¬ 
ier had brought. Whereupon his Majesty 
laughed boisterously. 

"Tree an enemy,” he returned, ""most of all 
a woman soldier who says voices from heaven 
call to her? She is a witch.” 

The girl wife shook her head. 

""Witches do not struggle for the right as 
she has struggled,” came the earnest answer. 
""To me it seems she must be chosen of God.” 

But not so thought the Lord of Burgundy. 
He sold Joan for bright English gold to those 
who condemned her to death as a witch and 
burned her at the stake in the ancient market¬ 
place of Rouen. 

There is a story that Isabella wept bitterly 
when she learned the fate of the shepherdess 
and remembered how badly her husband had 
kept his word as a knight of the Golden Fleece. 

Great ladies in those days had no course save 
one of fealty to their lords, no matter how 
wickedly those lords behaved, and Isabella was 
a loyal wife to Burgundy’s duke. There were 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


176 

times when she grieved much because of what 
seemed to her his wrong-doing, but there were 
other times when some generous and kindly 
deed of his gladdened her soul, for Philip was 
a man of both good and evil conduct. In fact, 
he did so many splendid things that his friends 
spoke of him as ''the Good,” and by that title 
the world knows him to this very day. Al¬ 
though, when one thinks of Joan of Arc and 
his imprisoned cousin Jacqueline, it seems he 
does not deserve it. So Isabella had joy as 
well as sorrow as his duchess. And after a 
time a beautiful child came to be her pride and 
comfort, a baby boy who when he grew to man¬ 
hood became the ruler history knows as Charles 
the Bold. 

Many years passed, eventful, colorful years, 
during which Philip added realm after realm 
to his domain and Burgundy rose to the rank 
of a great power. 

But death claims alike the mighty and the 
lowly, and in the seventieth year of his age this 
exalted man who had been both righteous and 
evil passed on to his fathers. 

Then Isabella realized her dream of many 
years and returned to Portugal. It was very 
different from the land she had left as a girl 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 177 

when she rode north to become the bride of the 
duke, for time had brought death there, as it 
had brought it in Burgundy; and because so 
few of her people were left to greet her it was 
a land of sad memories. But it was home in a 
way the country of her husband had never 
been home, and there she settled down to a 
contented, peaceful existence. Dawn and sun¬ 
set tinged the mountain crests with rainbow 
hues, as it had tinged them of old. Wherever 
she went there was the sound of her native 
tongue, and that was like music to her ears, 
even though the lips that spoke it were not the 
ones she had loved most in childhood days. 
Portugal was a sweet and restful realm to her, 
after the turmoil of her years with Philip, a 
place in which to dream again the dreams of 
long ago. 

One evening she sat in a portico facing the 
sea, watching the sun sink into the foam-tufted 
billows her brother Enrico had loved, and which 
he had sailed with glory to his land. His ex¬ 
peditions had added many a fair province to 
Portugal, for they had resulted in the dis¬ 
covery of the Azores and Madeira Islands, and 
one of them reached the mouth of the Senegal 
River, through which a vast realm in Africa 


178 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

became a possession of the crown. With 
Henry on some of his voyages had sailed 
Raimbault de Vainteur, the squire who helped 
Isabella the night she ran away. He had gone 
to Lisbon many years before, because the sea 
that had called in childhood called even more 
loudly as manhood came. So he forsook the 
life of a knight for that of a sailor and for a 
long time had been captain of one of the navi¬ 
gator prince's ships. As Isabella watched the 
sunset on the water she wondered where 
Raimbault was and whether she would ever see 
him again. Her brother had died seven years 
before she returned to her native land, but as 
she looked out across the waves that had for¬ 
ever called to him he seemed very near. 

^Wou were a prince of great dreams," she 
murmured, as her eyes wandered to where a 
boat that had been his favorite craft was rock¬ 
ing in the harbor; '^and much did your dream¬ 
ing profit your land." 

She did not see an attendant come into the 
portico, and with him a broad-shouldered man 
and a girl whose eyes were red with weeping. 

'The Senhor Raimbault de Vainteur," the 
man announced, "who sailed many years under 
his Highness, Prince Enrico. He has just re- 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 179 

turned from sea and begs a word with you/' 

Isabella turned eagerly. Could it be that 
this man whose hair was already graying was 
he who had scolded her that night in the 
Marche du Vendredi? 

She wanted to talk with him about that long- 
ago time, but he had come to see her on a 
weighty matter, one that could not be delayed 
for other things. 

‘Tt is because of Dona Felipa Perestrella 
that I am here," he said. 

Then Isabella noticed the girl and wondered 
what she had been crying about. 

‘'Her sire was the truest friend I had 
in Portugal," Vainteur explained; “an Ital¬ 
ian navigator and map-maker your brother 
brought to court. But now he is dead, and 
according to the law of the land Felipa is ward 
of the king." 

Isabella began to understand. Portugal 
was now ruled over by her nephew, John II, 
who was not the kindest of sovereigns and a 
very different man from John the Great, who 
had been her father. 

“You are in trouble?" she asked gently, as 
she looked at the distressed face. 

“Yes, your Highness," came the reply. 


i8o GIRLHOOD STORIES 

''His Majesty says I must marry a Portuguese 
noble/' 

The duchess of Burgundy smiled. 

"There might be a worse fate than that," 
she remarked, "unless this man is humpbacked 
or has the disposition of an ogre." 

But when she learned that Felipa wanted to 
wed a navigator from Genoa who was then 
working as a map-maker in Lisbon the girl's 
trouble seemed serious indeed. 

"He is called Cristoforo Colombo," Vainteur 
remarked, "and is as daring a sailor as ever 
roved the ocean." 

"Yes," Felipa broke in, "and he is a good 
man, too. Those who work with him say he is 
ever courteous and gentle, and I know with 
my own eyes that he is deeply religious." 

A map-maker! One of the craft her 
brother had respected so highly and aided in 
every possible way. When she learned his 
name and calling, she said little but thought 
much, and as Felipa turned to leave she gave 
the dark head an affectionate pat. 

"You can count upon the friendship of the 
king's aunt," she said in farewell. 

That night the duchess of Burgundy dined 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE i8i 

with her royal nephew, but her mind was with 
Felipa Perestrella and the Italian sailor. The 
moment there came a lull in his Majesty’s 
speech touching affairs of state Isabella spoke 
of the strides Portugal had lately taken in navi¬ 
gation and of the brilliant group of seafaring 
men come into the land. 

‘T am told an Italian is now in Lisbon whose 
talent bids fair to eclipse them all,” she 
remarked. 

John II smiled. 

“You mean the Genoese navigator, Colombo. 
He has been on long and dangerous voyages 
and has obtained such knowledge of the world 
that I have made him chief of the map-makers. 
A gifted fellow, truly.” 

Just what else Isabella said old chronicles do 
not tell, but whatever it was, it had sufficient 
weight with the king that he gave his consent 
to the marriage of Perestrella’s daughter to the 
map-maker from Genoa. 

A few days afterward she and Cristoforo 
were wedded, and Isabella spoke of them as 
“my couple.” In fact, they called themselves 
by this title, because they knew that but for 
her intercession they could not have married. 


i82 girlhood stories 

''Help him/’ she said to the bride as he 
greeted her just after the ceremony. "En¬ 
courage him in all his hopes and dreams.” 

Felipa did help her husband. She studied 
his charts and maps, and many a time when he 
had worked until his eyes ached she took the 
brush and painted in the lines at his direction; 
for the Navigator’s daughter knew so much of 
her father’s craft that the navigator husband 
realized she could be trusted with the most 
delicate bit of map-making. As they worked 
together the dreams and hopes of the Italian 
grew until one day he proclaimed in Portugal 
what he had proclaimed in Italy several years 
before, that the world was not flat but round, 
and asked the king to give him ships and men 
that he might sail out and prove it. 

But the people declared he was crazy, and 
the king agreed with them. 

So again to Isabella went Raimbault de 
Vainteur, this time with a plea that she inter¬ 
cede with her royal nephew in the Italian’s 
behalf. And again Isabella used the might 
of her words and her smile. 

"He shall have a chance,” King John said at 
the end of a long interview. 

Instead of giving Cristoforo that chance, 


ISABELLA OF THE FLEECE 183 

however, King John did a treacherous thing. 
He secretly made use of the Italian's maps and 
charts and sent men out to see if what they 
said were true. These sailors were too cow¬ 
ardly to go where the maps told them, and so 
they returned with word that this talk about 
the world's being round was just the raving of 
a diseased brain. 

If Henry the Navigator had been alive it 
might have been very different. But there 
was no one in Portugal powerful enough and 
loyal enough to give Cristoforo the help he 
needed, although Isabella did all that she could. 
Disappointed and heartbroken over the perfidy 
of the sovereign he had trusted, the navigator 
took his young son and set out for Spain; his 
wife, Felipa, had died a short time before. 

You know the rest of the story. There 
dawned a day some sixteen years later when 
Cristoforo Colombo—Columbus we of the 
west call him—was no longer an obscure map- 
maker but was acclaimed all over Europe as 
never king had been acclaimed, for he had dis¬ 
covered a new world and had given a world to 
the land that made his sailing possible. But of 
the three who had shared his hopes and dreams 
and helped to push him on, not one saw the 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


184 

splendor of their realization, for like Felipa, 
both Vainteur and Isabella were dead. 

Yet who knows that but for the full measure 
of encouragement received from Henry the 
Navigator’s sister during those years of trial 
in Lisbon the Great Admiral might not have 
gone on? There are some who have studied 
deeply into the story who believe the discovery 
of America was made possible not only by the 
Spanish queen who offered to pledge her 
jewels to finance the voyage of Columbus but 
by that other Isabella who, in encouraging and 
helping him, was true to the highest ideals of 
that brotherhood of knight-errantry that was 
founded in her honor, the one history knows as 
the Order of the Golden Fleece. 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 



i; 


1 




■i 




IX 

DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 

I T was three years after Columbus discov¬ 
ered America, and Italy was in the throes 
of a war. Naples and Sicily, which Rene of 
Provence had as part of his domain until they 
were wrested from him by the Spanish sover¬ 
eign, Alfonso of Aragon, were held by Spain, 
but they were claimed by France because, al¬ 
though Rene himself had been dead for almost 
thirty years, his descendants still dreamed of 
regaining the lost possessions. Now one of 
these descendants was king of France, and as 
soon as he came to the throne Charles VIII, as 
this monarch was called, determined to recover 
what he believed to be the possession of his 
family. Therefore he crossed the Alps and 
seized Naples before the Spaniards had a 
chance to strike back. 

In those days Italy was not a single united 
country, as it is in our time. It was made up 
of many independent cities, each of which was 
187 


i88 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


a state of itself ruled over by a great princely 
or ducal house, and some of which, like Flor¬ 
ence, Venice, and Milan, were very powerful. 
Between these state-cities there was a great 
deal of jealousy, because each wanted to be 
mightier than the other, and each was ready to 
go to war at the slightest excuse. Therefore, 
when the French seized Naples, the entire 
country was aflame, for some of the great 
Italian lords supported Charles in his claim, 
while others sided with the Spaniards. 
Everybody waited for the Spaniards to strike 
back, which it was certain they would do as 
soon as word of what had happened went to 
Spain; and when King Ferdinand came with 
an army to try to drive the French out of Na¬ 
ples, nobles from all over central and northern 
Italy, as well as those of the south, flocked to 
the support of one side or the other, until al¬ 
most every great Italian family was involved 
in the struggle. 

Among those who hurried to Naples to have 
a hand in the fight was a Roman prince named 
Fabrizio Colonna, one of the most gifted mil¬ 
itary leaders and richest men of his day. He 
was head of a powerful and ancient family, 
and to have him supporting a cause was to 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 189 

bring to it not only great ability as a com¬ 
mander but a goodly following of soldiers as 
well, for he was in position to summon many 
soldiers to his standard. The French tried to 
win him to their side, but his sympathies were 
with the Spaniards, and to them he was a tre¬ 
mendous help, for no one in Europe was more 
skilled in directing a campaign than Fabrizio 
Colonna. Therefore the king of Spain wanted 
to form a friendship with him that could not be 
broken and saw a way of doing it through a 
boy and girl. 

Prince Colonna had a daughter, Vittoria, a 
beautiful child about six years old, and Fer¬ 
dinand of Spain had a nephew of the same age, 
Ferrante Francesco d’Avalos. So it occurred 
to the ruler that the marriage of these two 
would cement the friendship between him and 
the valued leader, and when he proposed it 
Colonna was pleased with the idea. 

Accordingly the children were formally be¬ 
trothed. Vittoria did not know what it meant, 
and neither did Ferrante, for between the years 
of five and six one understands very little 
about engagements and marriages. But one 
day, as the princess played in the garden that 
lay between her father’s castle and the great 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


190 

wall that shut it from the highway, she was 
delighted to have a little boy brought to play 
with her, one who had the bright, dark eyes of 
Spain. She liked him from the first, this 
young Ferrante, and he liked her, too; for, ac¬ 
cording to his notion, she was a very pretty 
and pleasant little girl. 

''My uncle, King Ferdinand, says I am to 
stay here for several weeks,he explained, as 
he told about the long ride from Naples upon 
which he had just come in care of a guard 
sent by his Spanish Majesty. 

"That will be nice,” Vittoria exclaimed, 
brightly pleased with the thought of having 
a companion. "I will ask Anselmo, the 
groom, to show you the horses, and maybe 
Gulielmo will let us watch him train the birds.” 

"What birds?” Ferrante questioned. 

"The falcons. Come, I will take you to see 
them right now.” 

They followed a winding path between 
flowering locust-trees to a garden that spread 
out beyond the stables. Here Gulielmo, the 
bird-trainer, was working with the falcons, 
small, hawk-like creatures that centuries ago 
were used in hunting. They were taught how 
to dart out and catch other birds, and because 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 191 

Prince Colonna rode often to the chase, he had 
a large number of falcons. 

For several hours the children watched the 
trainer teaching the little creatures to make the 
outward flight and the return. Then they 
played among the blossoming gardens until 
Vittoria’s nurse called that it was time for 
them to go into the castle. 

Three weeks went by in this pleasant fashion, 
with the companionship between Vittoria and 
Ferrante always growing more delightful. 
Then the boy was taken back to Naples. Vit¬ 
toria and her mother, her nurses, governess, 
and other attendants stayed on at the castle, 
and very often the child wondered if the 
friendly little playmate would come again. 

During the years that succeeded a great 
many things happened in Italy, and even with¬ 
out leaving her home there was much for Vit¬ 
toria to see. Marina, as the ancient seat of 
the Colonnas was called, stood on a wooded 
slope of the Alban Hills, a range of low, vol¬ 
canic mountains to the south and east of Rome, 
and outspread below were the towers and shin¬ 
ing palaces of the Eternal City. Almost every 
day marching men went by, soldiers going to 
join the armies in the south or in some other 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


192 

part of the country, for the dispute between 
France and Spain had involved so many of the 
great Italian houses that the war was no longer 
confined to Naples but raged up and down the 
peninsula. From the high windows the girl 
used to watch the legions moving by, wonder¬ 
ing if they were going to join her father, and 
wishing the fighting would end so that he could 
come home and stay. 

But instead of ending it dragged on and on, 
and one day it looked as if it would cost Vit- 
toria and her mother their home, and perhaps 
even their lives. Word came that a prince 
named Borgia had determined to take Castle 
Marina and was sending an army to attack it. 
Princess Colonna knew they would be wholly 
at the mercy of the enemy with her husband 
not there to direct his men and with so few 
guards left at the outer gates that they could 
easily be struck down. 

‘We must flee!’’ she exclaimed to her 
women. ‘Tf we can get to shelter in Rome I 
can summon aid from my brother, the duke of 
Urbino.” 

Preparations for a hurried departure were 
made, and Vittoria, beside her mother, was 
mounted on a horse. But before they moved 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 193 

beyond sight of the castle a courier brought 
word that the greedy Borgia had suddenly 
died. His sons were having trouble enough 
to hold the lands their father had already 
snatched, without trying to take anything 
more. So it was safe for the party to return 
to Marina, and there they lived on as before. 
But they were never free from fear of attack, 
because some other prince might undertake 
what the Borgia lord had tried to do, and per¬ 
haps death would not halt him in his design. 

Lonely days would have been in store for the 
young princess had she not been busy, but her 
studies very largely filled her hours. Her 
mother was daughter of the great ducal house 
of Urbino and was one of the most highly cul¬ 
tured ladies of Italy. The men and women of 
the Colonnas were famed for their elegant 
learning, and Vittoria must be worthy of her 
blood. Languages, history, mathematics, and 
poetry she must know, as well as dancing and 
courtly accomplishments. That was the usual 
thing for Italian girls of high birth in that day, 
for the period in which Vittoria Colonna lived, 
and for almost a hundred years before it, was 
known as the Renaissance, or Revival of 
Learning. The Renaissance was to the world 


194 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

like the sudden flooding of a dark city with 
light from a million electroliers, for the world 
seemed all at once to awaken to the value and 
beauty of knowledge. Instead of being satis¬ 
fied just to engage in warfare and leave educa¬ 
tion to monks and priests, as had been the case 
during earlier centuries, it was the ambition of 
great lords to be as splendidly cultured as pos¬ 
sible. Not to be possessed of much knowledge 
was regarded as a disgrace, and the more lan¬ 
guages, literature, mathematics, and history 
one knew, and the more he understood of art 
and music the more admired he was. During 
the Renaissance culture was the watchword of 
the Italian nobility, and princely houses like 
the Colonnas educated their daughters as care¬ 
fully as their sons. 

But long days of study were no hardship 
to Vittoria. She delighted in browsing over 
books, for from both her father and mother 
she had inherited a love of learning, as well 
as ability. Especially did she delight in books 
of poetry, songful verses by Italians who had 
lived during her grandfather’s and great¬ 
grandfather’s day, some of which had been 
set to music and were often sung by hired 
musicians in the Colonna banquet-hall. Over 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 195 

and over she read and sang these until she 
knew them by heart, because each reading 
brought her pleasure. 

While Vittoria studied almost ten years 
passed, and still the war dragged on. Her 
father was almost never at home except on 
short furloughs, and she had only the compan¬ 
ionship of her mother, the women attendants 
at the castle, her books, and letters from Fer- 
rante d’Avalos, whom she would some day 
marry. He was at Naples and was training 
in the army; for, because of his high birth he 
must become a general, and a general is not 
made in a day. Prince Colonna kept him in 
his division, and, guided by the brilliant com¬ 
mander, the lad learned much. 

''You will make a real soldier,’’ Fabrizio en¬ 
couraged him when Ferrante skilfully and 
bravely carried out some direction. 

Whereupon the boy’s eyes glowed with such 
pleasure that any one seeing him realized that 
his dream of dreams was to become a great 
military chief. 

One day a guest came to Castle Marina, and 
Vittoria danced with happiness when she heard 
his name. She never had met him before, but 
her father had often spoken in praise of him 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


196 

and declared he was one of the most gifted men 
of his time. Ludovico Ariosto he was called, 
and, although still a very young man, he had 
written so many beautiful poems that he was 
famed throughout Italy. Vittoria knew many 
of his verses and thought it wonderful to be 
able to talk with him. 

From the moment Ariosto met the young 
princess he was much interested in her, for 
although all daughters of great houses were 
excellently cultured then, he never had known 
a girl of her years who was as brilliant and 
well informed. Her wide knowledge and great 
love of poetry especially surprised and de¬ 
lighted him. Then, as they talked together, he 
learned something that astonished him still 
more. 

^'Sometimes I do verses myself,” she re¬ 
marked, as they discussed the works of one 
of the great Italian bards. ‘‘Much indeed 
would I like to have you read what I have 
done.” 

“I can think of nothing that would give me 
more pleasure,” he answered, with graceful 
courtesy. And he meant what he said, for if 
this attractive maiden wrote as brilliantly as 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 197 

she talked he knew her poetry would be worth 
reading. 

She led the way to a large apartment that 
had, ever since at the age of four she had be¬ 
gun lessons with her governess, been her 
school-room, and where, on tables and shelves 
carved by the best artists of Italy, were many 
beautiful books. Ariosto’s eyes gleamed as he 
beheld them. He loved books but owned very 
few himself, and the volumes he possessed 
were cheap and homely compared with those 
that now surrounded him. Although rich in 
talent, this young poet was poor in money, and 
as books were very costly then, he had to con¬ 
tent himself with half a dozen or so each year. 
But the wealth of the prince of Colonna en¬ 
abled him to buy without having to count the 
cost, and as a result he had one of the most 
splendid libraries in Italy; which is saying a 
good deal, for in those days of the Renaissance 
each lordly house tried to have the richest col¬ 
lection of literary and art works. The Med- 
icis and Borgias and Borgheses of Florence 
and Rome, the Gonzagas of Mantua, and all 
the other great families spent thousands of 
gold pieces each year in buying the works of 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


198 

scholars and artists, and none purchased books 
in greater numbers than Fabrizio Colonna. 
Several of the largest halls at Castle Marina 
were filled with them, and Vittoria was priv¬ 
ileged to take even the costliest volumes to 
her own quarters. Consequently the poet 
found there works on history, mathematics, 
languages, and poetry that were a rare joy to 
him. Every one of them was hand-printed on 
parchment with black and colored ink. Most 
of them were richly illuminated, also by hand, 
by men of devotion and talent carefully plying 
pens dipped in costly pigments. The covers 
were of hand-dressed pig or calf-skin, many 
of them studded with jewels that had been 
worked into graceful designs. 

One after another of these tomes Ariosto 
examined, turning the beautiful pages with the 
affection a true book-lover feels for a rare 
volume. Now and then he read aloud from 
them, for when Vittoria saw his eyes gleam at 
sight of the richly adorned shelves and tables 
she exclaimed: ^Xook at them first. Then 
I will get my verses.’’ 

Many minutes passed in browsing over the 
literary treasures of Prince Colonna. Then, 
from her desk of carved walnut, Vittoria 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 199 

brought some leaves of parchment upon which 
from time to time she had written her thoughts. 
Thirty-eight poems in all there were, mostly 
about the beauties of the mountains, the for¬ 
ests, and the shining city that could be seen 
from the castle windows, the flowers and birds 
in the park, and her thoughts about God and 
religion. She watched eagerly as the poet 
scanned them, wondering if he deemed them 
good or bad, but for some minutes the expres¬ 
sion of his face and eyes gave no idea what his 
opinion was. Then suddenly he turned to her 
and asked, ''What does your father say about 
your verses 

"He has not seen them,” she replied. "I 
want to know what you think before I show 
them to any one else.” 

She gazed at him in eager expectation, and 
he read a great wish in her eyes. 

"Then you may let him see them with 
pride,” he answered "I have read much good 
poetry in my time, and these verses prove to 
me that you have a gift.” 

For a moment the girl was speechless with 
happiness. Then, earnestly, she exclaimed: 
"Oh, I am so glad! Above everything else in 
the world, I want to be a poet.” 


200 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


^Then write/' Ariosto replied with enthusi¬ 
asm, ‘'write your best thoughts every day, for 
it is only through much labor that great excel¬ 
lence comes." 

When Ariosto left Castle Marina to return 
to Rome next morning, Vittoria determined to 
go on with her verse-making and to let not a 
day go by without penning the best thoughts 
that came to her. And for a good while she 
kept to that resolve. Then things happened 
that for a time caused poetry to be put aside. 

A truce came in the war, and Prince Colonna 
sent for his wife and daughter to come to the 
south. Consequently, attended by a strong 
guard of soldiers, and accompanied by a little 
army of servants, they set forth to journey to 
Naples, traveling through a region whose viv¬ 
idly colored mountains and blossoming valleys 
were a delight to Vittoria's soul. 

At Naples they took passage for Ischia, that 
rarely beautiful islet that rises like an opal out 
of the Mediterranean and guards the entrance 
to the bay. On a towering rock thatds Ischia's 
highest point Alfonso of Aragon had built a 
castle seventy years before, and this lordly seat 
had descended to King Ferdinand. Pleased 
with the thought of the marriage between his 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 201 

nephew and Prince Colonna’s daughter, he had 
given it to Ferrante d’Avalos, and at the same 
time had bestowed upon the youth the title of 
Marchese, or Marquis, of Pescara. 

In this regal seat the long-contemplated mar¬ 
riage took place, with all the pomp that attended 
a wedding among the Italian nobility during the 
high noon of the Renaissance. Princes and 
dukes arrived from Venice, Florence, Urbino, 
Rome, and many another city, and even from 
Spain, to have a part in the event. There was 
banqueting and dancing. A hunting-party was 
arranged, and for three days the groves of the 
island echoed to sounds of winding horns and 
shouts of hunters, as the men and some of the 
women rode to the chase. It was a time of joy 
for all who were bidden to the marriage celebra¬ 
tion, but most of all to Vittoria, for the more 
she saw of Ferrante the more the liking for him 
that had begun in childhood grew. And when 
Ferrante beheld her in her bridal robe of jewel- 
studded satin, with the light of a lovely spirit 
shining in her eyes, he was glad she had been 
chosen for him. So, without any of the disap¬ 
pointment and heartache so often felt by the 
ones most concerned in a marriage among the 
great, the two were wedded. 


202 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


Then they repaired to Naples, that Ferrante 
might be within easy call of the army, if needed; 
and there, on a hill overlooking city and bay, a 
magnificent villa was set aside for them. Great 
receptions and rejoicings were held in their 
honor, and life was as full of delight as life 
could be. Both Ferrante and Vittoria loved 
poetry, music, and the beautiful things of life, 
and in Naples in that day there were many 
learned men and cultured women. The home 
of the Marchese di Pescara was the favorite 
retreat of all of them, and almost every eve¬ 
ning there were gatherings there at which dis¬ 
tinguished poets and musicians sang, and 
where the conversation of many of the guests 
was as brilliant as that of the poets. 

In this elegant company Vittoria was delight¬ 
fully at home, for her years of study at Castle 
Marina had brought rich results. Besides be¬ 
ing one of the most beautiful women of her day, 
she was one of the most splendidly educated and 
talented, also, and even by the most brilliant of 
Naples was so admired that they called her la 
Pescara Superba—the Superb Pescara. It 
seemed as if all the gifts of the gods were hers. 
Surrounded by the admiration of hundreds of 
friends, an enchanting city, and an enchanting 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 203 

sea, happy in a marriage to the youth she would 
have chosen for herself had she been free to do 
so, and possessed of grace of body, mind, and 
spirit, as well as by all the luxury money could 
buy, it is hard to imagine a more glowing 
picture of young womanhood than Vlttoria 
Colonna at nineteen. But life, which thus far 
had brought her only golden things, suddenly 
gave her a portion of loneliness. 

The war broke out with redoubled fury, and 
Ferrante had to dash away to the front. He 
was given command of a regiment of cavalry, 
and his bravery and ability, as well as his lik¬ 
able nature, endeared him to every one of his 
men. Wherever duty called him he made a 
splendid record, and to Vittoria in Naples 
word came very often of honors heaped upon 
him because of some brilliant soldiering feat. 
She gloried in the thought of her husband do¬ 
ing his part at the front, and the greater part 
of her time was given to writing verses that 
bespoke her pride in him. During the years 
that had gone since leaving Castle Marina she 
had grown in depth of thought and grace of 
expression, and the lines that came from her 
pen now were far more beautiful than those 
Ariosto had praised. All sang of the high 


204 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


courage and endearing qualities of Ferrante 
d’Avalos, and flowed with a rhythmic loveli¬ 
ness that could come only from one remarkably 
gifted. 

Thus more than ten years went by. Then 
one day to her portion of loneliness was added 
sorrow, for word came that Ferrante was 
dead. Weakened by wounds received in bat¬ 
tle, he breathed his last in Milan, and was 
buried there with great pomp, as befitted one 
of the most distinguished generals of his day. 

Vittoria Colonna was as great in force of 
character as she was in beauty and talent, and 
although grief over the loss of her husband 
was very deep, she bore it with dignity. Back 
to Ischia she went, where she and Ferrante 
had married; and there, overlooking the sea 
they both loved, she lived with her memories 
and her books. More than ever she wrote 
poetry now, for comfort came when she put 
her thoughts of her husband into verse. And 
as time passed she wrote of many other things 
save her sorrow, of nature, religion, patriotism, 
and the ways of man, until she had made sev¬ 
eral large books. Her fame spread through¬ 
out Italy, and all over the land it was the won- 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 205 

der of the people that the daughter of one of 
the richest and noblest houses, and one of the 
most beautiful women of her time, should also 
be Italy's greatest woman writer. 

‘'Heaven has given her all that is to be 
desired/’ one of her admirers wrote. And 
except for the sorrow occasioned by the death 
of Ferrante, it seemed the saying was true. 
And with it all she was a warm-hearted 
woman, loving all that was worthy, and being 
ever ready to encourage and help a fellow¬ 
being. Her castle at Ischia became the 
gathering-place of the great of her day. 
From every Italian province and city painters, 
architects, musicians, and poets, as well as the 
highest of the nobility, were drawn by the 
beauty, talent, and gracious friendliness of 
Vittoria Colonna. It was her joy to encour¬ 
age all who were striving to give something 
beautiful to the world, whether it was a 
statue, a painting, a noble building, or a book. 
No man was too low in birth to be welcome at 
her fireside, provided he had a fine ideal and 
was working toward some worthy aim. And 
none was of such high rank or noble origin 
that he did not welcome an invitation to visit 


2o6 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


her. Thus it happened that those who were 
born peasants and those who were born princes 
gathered very often under her roof. 

One day to the castle at Ischia came a rug¬ 
ged, dark-eyed man. His name was Michel¬ 
angelo, and he was a sculptor so gifted that 
Ariosto said of him that he could '‘make a block 
of marble turn into a saint or a faun.” His 
father, who was of the merchant class of Italy, 
intended his son to become a silk-weaver and 
talked much of the prosperous life he would 
have if he learned to make silk of excellent 
quality. But the lad was not at all interested 
in weaving. Above everything else he liked 
to draw and to go into the church that stood 
close by his home and look at the statues and 
paintings. Before he was ten years old he had 
made up his mind that he wanted to be an 
artist; and his father, realizing he would not 
make a good weaver with his thoughts on 
marble and canvas, sent him to Florence to 
study painting. 

The years that followed showed the father 
that he had not made a mistake. In Florence 
the boy’s talent attracted the attention of 
Lorenzo d’Medici, who then ruled the city, a 
man so powerful and rich and such a lover of 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 207 

beautiful things and liberal purchaser of books 
and works of art that people called him Lo¬ 
renzo the Magnificent. He took young Michel¬ 
angelo into his palace and treated him as one 
of his own family; and, encouraged by the 
great art patron, the happy youth worked on as 
if inspired. At the age of twenty he was the 
master sculptor of Italy, as well as one of her 
most celebrated painters. He became an archi¬ 
tect, also, and built as well as he carved and 
painted, superintending the erection of great 
stone structures and ornamenting them with a 
skill no other living man possessed. And be¬ 
sides all this he wrote poetry and was versed in 
the best learning of his time. 

Michelangelo admired the poetry of Vittoria 
Colonna as much as she admired his genius as 
an artist. And she, knowing he was without 
an equal as a maker of beautiful things, felt 
a deep desire to know him. Thus it happened 
that among the other brilliant folk who came 
to Ischia she invited him to visit her, and that 
visit was the beginning of one of the most 
beautiful friendships of history. It was a 
friendship between a beautiful, gifted woman 
and a divinely gifted man, whose nobility of 
soul was as great as his talent. 


2o8 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


From that time forth Michelangelo and Vit- 
toria Colonna saw each other very frequently. 
Now at Ischia, now at Florence, Rome, or 
Pisa, they met wherever fate made it possible 
for them to be together. When they could 
not be together they exchanged letters, and al¬ 
ways these letters were examples of grace of 
expression and exalted thought and feeling. 
Many of them were in verse, and of those writ¬ 
ten by Vittoria to the sculptor 143 are among 
the finest poems she ever penned. 

Sometimes when they met in the various 
Italian cities, or at the delightful island re¬ 
treat, another famous person joined them, one 
Vittoria had known from girlhood, Ludovico 
Ariosto. Even as Michelangelo was the king 
of architects and sculptors, so was Ariosto the 
king of poets in Italy, and the hours the three 
spent together were hours of delight. That 
the girl he had encouraged had become the 
most celebrated woman writer of her land was 
a source of much pleasure to him, and very 
sincerely did he rejoice in the friendship be¬ 
tween her and the sculptor, for the two were 
nearly equal in the graces of mind and heart. 
Vittoria Colonna lived to be almost sixty. 
Misfortune overtook her before she died, for 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 209 

in those turbulent times anything could hap¬ 
pen, and toward the end of her life she became 
poor. Because of the disputes that were for¬ 
ever engaging the great Italian houses in 
struggles, her property was wrested away 
from her, and from being mistress of several 
great estates she became dependent upon the 
generosity of her relatives and friends. Many 
women would have spent their days grieving 
over the hardship, but she was first, last, and 
always a Colonna, daughter of a proud and 
ancient line, and she bore the adversity of life 
as she had borne its golden things, with dignity 
and sweetness of spirit. She had her friends, 
even though her fortune was gone, and the 
talent that had brought her so much pleasure 
was a thing no man could take away. She 
kept on writing poetry, as Michelangelo 
worked on with his chisels and Ariosto with 
his songs, and when death came it was the 
sculptor who heard her last words and closed 
her eyes. 

Vittoria Colonna, child of the Renaissance 
and daughter of the mighty Roman house, 
lives as one of the celebrated women writers 
of all time. Hundreds of sonnets that grew 
out of her happiness and grief have come down 


210 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


to us, and although more than four hundred 
years have gone since they were penned, they 
still give delight because of noble sentiment 
and rich thought exquisitely expressed. 
Ariosto, who to this day ranks as one of the 
greatest of all poets, wrote many verses in 
praise of her, in one of which he says: 

She not alone wins immortality 

With that sweet style, the best that I descry, 

But makes whoe’er her speech or pen shall praise 
Rise from his grave and live eternal days. 


Vittoria is her name. 

And what of Michelangelo, the friend of 
friends of her later years? His name lives as 
that of the mightiest genius the world has ever 
known, a painter of distinction, a writer of ex¬ 
cellent verse, and a sculptor and architect no 
man has been able to equal, although the great¬ 
est of every age have tried. He made many 
incomparable statues. To a very great extent 
he rebuilt the great cathedral church of St. 
Peter in Rome, and he was the creator of so 
many marvelous art works that there is hardly 
a city in his native land that has not been glori- 


DAUGHTER OF THE COLONNAS 211 


fied by him. And besides his work the thing 
that meant most to him in life was his friend¬ 
ship with Vittoria Colonna; and after she had 
died his memories of a woman whose greatness 
of spirit and nobility of character, as well as 
her remarkable talent, are still the pride of 
Italy. 



TUDOR BESS 











X 


TUDOR BESS 

T he fog that for three days had wrapped 
southern England in a smoke-colored 
veil was thicker than ever that morning, and 
through the dripping grayness Katharine Ash¬ 
ley could not see what was happening beyond 
the portico in the garden. But she heard the 
angry tones of a boy’s voice, and the high- 
pitched, equally indignant calls of a girl, and 
ran down the granite steps of Hatfield Hall to 
see what they meant. 

“Bess Tudor!” she exclaimed in consterna¬ 
tion, as she hurried across the great lawn that 
swept between the stately residence and the 
densely wooded hunting-preserve beyond. 
“Stop! You forget your rank and dignity. It 
is not fitting that high-born ladies should fight 
youths with their fists.” 

But Bess Tudor neither stopped nor an¬ 
swered, for in that moment the thought that 
she was the daughter of the king of England 
215 


2i6 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


was very far from her mind. She was just an 
indignant girl standing for what she believed 
to be right, and with all the strength her two 
hands could muster she went on pummeling 
her cousin, Rupert Chadbourne, in the face. 
He was almost twice her size and so cumber¬ 
some and slow-moving that between her quick 
lunges he could not make a single defensive 
thrust. Not until Lady Katharine went over 
and caught her hands did she pause in her 
effort to give him the trouncing that accord¬ 
ing to her idea he richly deserved. 

‘Thee shall have from me a lesson it will 
greatly profit thee to learn,’’ she cried, and her 
flashing eyes and the tone in which she spoke 
showed she had stopped raining blows upon 
him only because it was no longer possible for 
her to continue. 

Lady Katharine was dumfounded. Al¬ 
ways Elizabeth had had a fiery temper, but 
never before had she resorted to her fists. 

“ ’T is shameful for you to fight like 
street ruffians,” the governess said sharply; 
“a princess of England and the son of an 
earl.” 

Young Chadbourne hung his head, but 


TUDOR BESS 


217 

Elizabeth faced the woman proudly, her man¬ 
ner showing very plainly she believed what she 
had done was in no way ignoble. 

‘‘ ’T is not as shameful as to stand by and 
see my small brother abused,’’ she returned 
with spirit. ‘‘Always when Rupert comes to 
Hatfield he taunts Edward. To-day he drove 
Ivor away and stoned him into the woods. A 
piece of glass struck Edward’s foot and made 
him weep. Then I fought. Is it not so, 
brother ?” 

A small, delicate-faced boy stood a few feet 
behind Elizabeth, and as Lady Katharine 
turned and looked at him she saw tears in his 
eyes. He was almost twelve years old, al¬ 
though he seemed not a day over eight or 
nine, and was such a pale, pathetic-looking 
child that the thought of any one seeing him 
was, “The poor little fellow!” Yet he was the 
son of Henry VIII and heir to the throne of 
England. 

Elizabeth was four years older, not quite 
sixteen, and there was no one in the world as 
dear to her as Edward. To see him abused 
in any way was a thing she could not stand, 
and this morning, when Rupert drove the dog 


2i8 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


away, he found that her fists were as hard and 
swift-moving as her tongue was quick in 
retort. 

Attracted by the commotion in the garden, 
Princess Mary came from the castle* She was 
a pale, grave-faced girl almost old enough to 
be Elizabeth’s mother instead of her sister, 
and she had so little to say that people called 
her Silent Mary. Probably that was because 
she lived a great deal in her thoughts, and the 
thoughts that came to her very often were far 
from happy, for although Elizabeth and Mary 
Tudor were princesses, they were very un¬ 
fortunate girls. 

Their father, Henry VIII, was a selfish, 
brutal man who was capable of almost any un¬ 
principled or cruel deed. Mary’s mother was 
a Spanish princess, Catharine of Aragon. 
After having her as his wife for several years 
the royal husband took a notion he wanted to 
marry a young and very charming woman 
named Anne Boleyn, one of the ladies in wait¬ 
ing to the queen. According to the law of the 
church, that was out of the question, as he had 
a wife living. But that mattered not at all to 
his selfish Majesty. He compelled the arch¬ 
bishop of Canterbury to declare his marriage 


TUDOR BESS 219 

to Catharine illegal, whereupon he wedded the 
beautiful Anne. 

Then he disinherited Mary, for no other 
reason than because she was the daughter of 
the woman he no longer wanted in his life. 
For a time the poor girl had a very sad time 
of it. She was pushed about from one castle 
to another as it pleased certain nobles to push 
her, and was abused and miserable. 

Several years passed, during which Henry 
delighted in his lovely young wife, and she be¬ 
came the mother of Elizabeth. For a little 
while after the wee princess arrived her father 
almost worshiped her. He celebrated her 
birth with great pomp, proclaimed her heir to 
the throne, and sent heralds throughout the 
land shouting, “God in His infinite goodness, 
send a prosperous life and long to the high and 
mighty princess of England, Elizabeth.'’ But 
before she was three years old the adoration 
of the king for his little daughter turned to 
dislike, not because of anything the child had 
done. 

Lying tongues brought the sad change 
about, for at the court of England, as at every 
other seat of royalty in that ^ay, there were 
many lying tongues. Men and women who 


220 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

hoped to advance in favor with the sovereign 
were always tattling in an attempt to better 
their own condition, and the noblest and most 
high-purposed lord or lady was not beyond the 
reach of calumny. Everything the queen said 
and did was reported to the king, and usu¬ 
ally the reports were greatly exaggerated. 
Scandal-mongers carried to Henry tales that 
for the most part they had made up themselves, 
and his Majesty believed them. Without find¬ 
ing out for himself if the stories were true or 
not, he angrily denounced Anne Boleyn. He 
charged her with deceit and unprincipled ac¬ 
tion and condemned her to death in London 
Tower. She died under the executioner’s ax 
when Elizabeth was two and a half years old, 
too young to realize what the terrible thing 
meant, but old enough to sob pitifully for a 
sight of her beautiful mother’s face. 

Then, like her sister Mary, the little prin¬ 
cess fared badly indeed, because her father’s 
displeasure toward Anne Boleyn made him 
brutal in his treatment of that woman’s child. 
She, too, was disinherited and, but for a good 
nurse and some relatives and friends, would 
have been very lonely and unhappy. These 
kindly intentioned folk kept her away from 


TUDOR BESS 


221 


London and out of the king’s sight and tried 
to make up to her for the lack of parental love 
that was denied. 

After the execution of Anne Boleyn Henry 
married Jane Seymour, and she became the 
mother of Edward. Great was the rejoicing 
all over England when word went forth that 
a son had been born to the queen, for every one 
knew the birth of a prince would end a dis¬ 
pute that had been going on ever since Eliza¬ 
beth first opened her eyes to the world, and 
that threatened at some future time to engulf 
the land in war. The friends of the discarded 
Catharine of Aragon, who was now dead, de¬ 
clared Princess Mary was the rightful heiress 
to the throne, in which claim they were sup¬ 
ported by her uncle, the king of Spain. Those 
who had upheld Henry when he set aside his 
marriage to Catharine insisted that Anne 
Boleyn’s daughter Elizabeth was the one to 
wield the scepter, and whispered boasts went 
about that when the time came for the king’s 
successor to be crowned they would see to it 
that the younger princess went to the throne. 
A land divided by the claims of two sisters 
that might at any time cause bloodshed, that 
was England when Edward was born. But 


222 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


all factions acknowledged this youngest child 
of Henry as prince royal, for even as late as 
the sixteenth century nobody looked with favor 
upon the idea of having a woman sovereign 
if there was any other way of filling the throne. 
So the coming of Edward settled the problem 
of the people. It ended, also, the resentment 
that for a time Princess Mary felt toward 
Elizabeth because of the possibility that this 
younger sister might obtain the throne she be¬ 
lieved it her own right to ascend. With a boy 
in the line of the succession neither of them 
could rule over the land. The older girl put 
aside her dislike and jealousy, and the two 
sisters became real friends and comrades. 
So, in more ways than one, the birth of Ed¬ 
ward was like the flight of a dove of peace into 
the realm. 

But the prince himself was no happier than 
Elizabeth had been during her first years, for 
his mother died when he was only a few days 
old. Soon after that his father married again, 
and because he did not want to be disturbed 
by a crying babe about the palace in London, 
the little fellow was taken to the country to get 
him out of his Majesty's way, and after a time 
all three of the royal children were gathered to- 


TUDOR BESS 


223 

gether under one roof. That is how they 
came to be living together at Hatfield Hall un¬ 
der the direction of Lady Katharine Ashley. 
Several different palaces had been set aside for 
them at different times, but nowhere were they 
as happy as at Hatfield, with its wide lawns, 
beautiful gardens, and splendid woodland 
stretches, through which, with many graceful 
windings, rambled the river Lea. Here Mary 
instructed Elizabeth in sewing and embroidery, 
for custom required that high-born girls be 
skilled in needle-craft, and Elizabeth began to 
sew when little more than a baby. Being a 
child of unusual intelligence, she developed 
great skill and when but five years old began 
making a birthday present for her brother, 
upon which she worked every day for almost a 
year. The second anniversary of the little 
prince’s life was celebrated as a great state 
event, and the nobles of England showered him 
with gifts of jewels, gold, and silver. Eliza¬ 
beth, in high glee, presented a shirt of cambric 
embroidered in tiny rosebuds by her own 
hands, a token of deeper love than the tribute 
of all the lords combined. 

At Hatfield the brother and sister romped 
together and had their lessons together. Lan- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


224 

guages, geography, architecture, history, and 
mathematics they studied, partly with Lady 
Ashley, partly with tutors who came out from 
London. Elizabeth took keen delight in her 
studies and drank in every word her teachers 
said. She remembered what they said and ap¬ 
plied it to future lessons, with the result that 
by the time she was twelve she was a match 
in scholarship for many people twice her age. 
She spoke with fluency and elegance Latin, 
French, Italian, Spanish, and Flemish, not¬ 
withstanding the fact that she used her fists 
with as much vigor as if she had been an un¬ 
taught street ruffian. 

After Lady Ashley ended the fight in the 
garden she said, ''Now, Bess, it is time for you 
to go with Mary to your tapestry lesson, while 
Edward must get to the arithmetic sums that 
are to be his task to-day.’’ 

She did not need to tell Rupert Chadbourne 
what to do. Immediately after she appeared 
and put an end to Elizabeth’s pummeling him, 
he took his departure for his father’s castle, 
having seen all of his cousin he wanted to see 
that day. 

The two sisters went to the sewing apart¬ 
ment in the western tower, and Elizabeth bent 


TUDOR BESS 


225 

over her tapestry-frame, which stood beside 
one of the windows, and in which was stretched 
a canvas marked with an outline of three horse¬ 
men riding to the chase. In listening to 
Mary’s direction as to what colors to use, and 
how to set the needle so as to give the best ef¬ 
fect and make the most truthful picture, she 
was soon lost in her work, and thoughts of 
everything else but the embroidery went out of 
her mind. 

The fog lifted. The sun came out, and 
myriad drops of moisture left by the gray cloak 
that had enveloped everything glistened under 
the rays as if the park were studded with jew¬ 
els. Elizabeth’s spirits, electrified by the sud¬ 
den burst of radiance, were bubbling, and her 
hands flew as she sent the needle in and out 
along the design. 

^Tt is heavenly here at Hatfield when the 
sun shines,” she exclaimed. ‘T hope I shall 
never have to leave it as long as I live.” 

Just as she finished that sentence there was 
a sudden commotion at the door. A servant 
entered with word that Lady Ashley wanted 
her and Edward to appear at once in the cere¬ 
monial hall of the castle, to receive a message 
from their father, the king. 


226 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


message from father/’ Elizabeth re¬ 
peated, as the woman turned from the door; 
'‘what do you suppose it pleases him to do 
now ?” 

'T suppose nothing at all,” Mary answered 
gloomily. "To suppose anything our father 
may do is usually to be mistaken. Therefore 
I waste no time in conjecture. It is the part 
of wisdom to wait and see.” 

Elizabeth dropped her tapestry-needle and 
ran to the lesson-room, where the young prince 
was bending over his sums. 

"Brother,” she exclaimed, "we must go at 
once to the ceremonial hall, to receive word 
from our father.” 

Edward looked up with alarm in his face. 

"Do you think it is anything that will make 
us unhappy ?” he asked. 

Elizabeth shook her head. 

"Of course not,” she replied confidently. 
"Father does everything he can do to make us 
happy.” 

And in her heart she believed what she said. 
No matter what her royal sire did to her or to 
her sister or brother, she never thought of 
him as a cruel man. 

"It is because he is king that he seems hard 


TUDOR BESS 


227 

sometimes,” she often made excuse for him. 
''Kings must forget that they are fathers and 
do whatever is best for the state.” 

Edward thought as she did, believing that 
if his sire had not been a sovereign he would 
have been kind and affectionate as any other 
parent. And both of them were partly right. 
Kings in those days were constantly prevailed 
upon by advisers and ministers to do this and 
that, and often perpetrated deeds they would 
not have done had they been let alone. But 
ministers and advisers were not responsible 
for all the cruel acts of Henry VIII. He was 
as selfish and heartless a man as could be, yet 
his two younger children excused and loved 
him, picturing him as the father he might have 
been had he not been a ruler. 

While Edward and Elizabeth wondered in 
the lesson-room about what the royal message 
would be, two knights waited in the ceremonial 
hall in very great discomfort, notwithstanding 
the luxury of that gorgeous apartment with 
its silken hangings and gilded furniture. 
They were the Earl of Hertford and Sir An¬ 
thony Brown, both men in high favor at the 
court of Henry. Now, however, they wished 
they were anything but English lords, because 


228 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


the mission on which they had fared from Lon¬ 
don was in no way to their liking. But when 
a king commanded, a subject had to obey; and, 
being subjects of his Tudor Majesty, they 
were compelled to do as he said, no matter 
what they thought or how they felt about it. 

’T is a shame to break into the happy life 
these children lead,’’ Sir Anthony said to the 
earl, as they waited. ‘'Before you were sum¬ 
moned I pleaded with his Majesty for them, 
but he would not listen.” 

Whereupon his lordship of Hertford an¬ 
swered, ^'Aye, would to God the performance 
of any task had been put upon me rather than 
one as painful as this.” 

Just as his comrade was about to reply. Lady 
Ashley and Princess Mary came into the hall, 
followed by Elizabeth and Edward. The 
young princess led her brother by the hand 
and looked eagerly into the faces of the men as 
she advanced. 

“Katharine says you are bringers of a mes¬ 
sage from the king, our father,” she said, as 
she saluted them. Edward watched silently, 
clinging to his sister’s hand as if afraid to re¬ 
lease it. 

“ ’T is true,” the Earl of Hertford answered. 


TUDOR BESS 


229 

Then he said no more but stood and looked at 

her. 

His manner was gracious, but something 
about his face, and also about the face of Sir 
Anthony Brown, told the girl that the news 
they brought would not be pleasant to hear. 
She dreaded to ask what their visit to Hatfield 
meant, yet she wanted to know. 

Princess Mary, standing just behind with 
Lady Ashley, watched in eager hope that her 
father was not about to do some unkind deed, 
but her hope was not to be realized. After a 
moment’s pause the Earl of Hertford spoke, 
and his words brought tears to her eyes. 

‘‘His Majesty is minded to place the young 
prince and princess in separate castles,” the 
Earl of Hertford announced in a solemn man¬ 
ner that told how hard it was for him to de¬ 
liver the message. “Therefore they are to 
journey with us now. Elizabeth will abide 
henceforth at Enfield Castle, while Edward is 
to take up residence at mine own seat of 
Hertford.” 

Elizabeth looked at the speaker as if she did 
not believe what he said. 

“Oh, no,” she exclaimed, “father cannot 
mean to take Edward away from me.” 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


230 

The Ups of the earl twitched as if in pain. 

‘Tt is the royal command, your Highness, 
one that I, as his Majesty's knight, and you, 
as his daughter, must obey." 

Edward began to weep, and Elizabeth put 
her arms around him protectingly. The ex¬ 
pression on the faces of the two courtiers 
showed it grieved them deeply to separate the 
devoted pair, but they were as helpless as the 
prince and princess themselves. Lady Kath¬ 
arine, seeing the imperial seal and signature on 
the document they brought with them, saw the 
uselessness and even danger of trying to stand 
against the king's wish. Gently she drew them 
from the hall toward the wing that held their 
apartments, where, aided by Princess Mary, 
she got them in readiness for the departure 
from the place that was so dear to them. 

“Why does father have to do this thing?" 
Elizabeth wept, as lovingly she embraced her 
weeping brother just before they got into the 
carriages that were to bear them away. 

But nobody could answer that question. 
Only the king knew why he was separating the 
children, and the king did not choose to say. 

It was in December that Elizabeth and Ed¬ 
ward rode away from Hatfield Hall to live in 


TUDOR BESS 


231 

separate castles. Not quite a month later a 
courier from London came at hot speed to the 
Earl of Hertford's seat and whispered some¬ 
thing that made the knight's face turn sud¬ 
denly gray. 

‘Trepare at once to start on a journey," he 
said to Edward, who was studying his history 
lesson in the apartment just beyond him. 

‘Where do we go?" the prince asked upon 
hearing the order. 

The earl shook his head. 

“In due season you shall know," he an¬ 
swered. “Speed now and do as you are told." 

If Edward had noticed the gray tinge the 
courier's words had brought into the noble¬ 
man's face he would have been a hundred times 
more curious to know what the sudden de¬ 
parture meant. 

They set forth from the castle, each on a 
goodly mount, and galloped toward the west. 
After an hour of riding Edward began to no¬ 
tice buildings and other landmarks he had seen 
before. Then the river Lea shimmered into 
view as it wound out of the forest into the 
meadow-land, and a little later he recognized 
the hunting-preserve that was like a green 
fringe around the lawns of Hatfield Castle. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


232 

He gave a joyous exclamation. 

‘^Are Bess and I going to live there again 
he asked. 

The earl shook his head. 

''No/' came the answer, "but very soon you 
will see your sister. We are going to Enfield, 
and the way to that castle leads past the hall." 

"We shall be together," the boy cried; "how 
splendid!" 

"Yes," the earl returned, "you will be to¬ 
gether." But his eyes seemed to add, "Sad, 
indeed, is the errand upon which we ride." 

They reached Enfield Castle in the late after¬ 
noon. Elizabeth saw their approach and 
bounded down through the garden to meet 
them, glad beyond words to see her brother 
again. She, too, thought that once more they 
would share the same home, and felt deep grat¬ 
itude to her father for permitting such a won¬ 
derful thing to come to pass. But when they 
went into the house their delight suddenly 
turned to grief, for there, in the presence of 
Lady Ashley, the Earl of Hertford broke the 
news that Henry VIH was dead. 

For a moment the brother and sister were 
speechless with amazement. Never had it 
seemed to them their father would die, for al- 


TUDOR BESS 


233 

though they knew he had been ill, he was such a 
big, strong man they reasoned that of course 
he would get well. But the earl insisted that 
what he told them was really so. Henry VIII 
was dead, and his son would succeed him as 
Edward VI, king of England. 

The boy thought not at all of the glory of 
being a sovereign. He thought only that he 
was not to see his father again and wept bit¬ 
terly. Elizabeth, too, shed passionate tears. 
The grief of the brother and sister was so in¬ 
tense that both the earl and Lady Ashley could 
hardly keep from weeping, although they had 
felt neither respect nor affection for the dead 
king. 

From that day forth things happened with 
amazing rapidity in the lives of Edward and 
Elizabeth. On the following morning the 
brother was taken to London, for although he 
was too young to ascend the throne, and his 
uncle, the Earl of Somerset, was to rule in his 
stead as regent, he had to go to the capital, 
that his education might be directed by the 
regent and the ministers. That meant another 
sorrowful parting with Elizabeth. Not even 
the grief he felt over the death of his father 
was as great as his distress at having to leave 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


234 

his ‘‘sweetest sister,” as he called Elizabeth, 
just after being permitted to see her again. 

But they were not to be separated long. 
Hardly was Edward settled in London when 
their stepmother, the widowed queen, Cathar¬ 
ine Parr, who always had had a deep affection 
for the princess, sent for her to come and share 
her home. She would have had her for years 
had King Henry permitted it. Now, with no 
one to prevent, she realized a wish she had 
cherished for a long time. 

Happily to London Town went Elizabeth 
Tudor, and happily she lived there with a 
woman who was beautiful and noble-natured, 
and who made her life all sunshine. Every 
day she and Edward were together for sev¬ 
eral hours, and although they did not share the 
same home, there was no longer the feeling of 
painful separation they had known at Hertford 
and Enfield. They carried on their studies to¬ 
gether, sharing their lessons much as they had 
done at Hatfield Hall. 

Catharine Parr was brilliant as well as beau¬ 
tiful, and wisely she guided the education of 
the princess, aided by the able and devoted 
teachers she obtained for her. She carried 
on, also, the work of instruction Princess Mary 


TUDOR BESS 


235 

had begun in needle-craft, until by the time 
the royal maiden was seventeen she did such in¬ 
tricate and beautiful embroidery and tapestry 
work that it was viewed with admiration 
wherever it was displayed. It was Elizabeth’s 
delight to make with her own hands presents 
for those she loved, and because she grew to 
love Catharine Parr devotedly, some of the 
handsomest work she ever did was done for 
her. To this day there is to be seen in the 
British Museum a book of prayers selected by 
Queen Catharine, copied by Elizabeth in beau¬ 
tiful handwriting, and bound in a piece of silk 
embroidered by her. The young king flaunted 
numerous shirts and robes that were the envy 
of all the nobles who beheld them, which were 
both fashioned and decorated by the deft fin¬ 
gers of his sister. 

Yet Elizabeth was no grave-faced young per¬ 
son who spent all her time bending over a book 
or plying a needle. She danced with rare grace. 
She was a skilful horsewoman and could keep 
her seat on a mount whether he leaped a fence 
or ditch or cantered along a country road or 
London street. She played delightfully upon 
both viol and lute. She was an exceedingly 
accomplished maiden, and as gay and pleasure- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


236 

loving as she was accomplished. Whatever 
she did she did with enthusiasm. There was 
nothing lukewarm or indifferent about Eliza¬ 
beth Tudor. 

Edward went to London that he might be 
fittingly trained to wield the sceptor when he 
was old enough to wield it. But he did not 
live to see that day. He died when only six¬ 
teen years of age, not quite four years after the 
passing of his father, and was succeeded by 
his sister Mary, who was crowned on the first 
day of October, 1553. 

Then again came sad days for Elizabeth, 
because the injustice and heartache Mary had 
suffered during her early years had warped 
her nature. She was suspicious of everybody 
and was ready to punish without proof any one 
she thought might try to unseat her from her 
throne. Without mercy, often without rea¬ 
son, she sent men and women to the block. Not 
even her father had so remorselessly deprived 
people of life as Mary deprived them of it. 
And because many of the same malicious 
tongues that had sent Anne Boleyn to the block 
were still busy in England, even Elizabeth, the 
sister she had loved devotedly, did not escape 
the wrathful suspicion of the queen. Without 


TUDOR BESS 237 

any proof other than mere whispered rumors 
that came from those who thought they had 
much to gain by getting the princess out of the 
way, Mary believed that Elizabeth was con¬ 
spiring to become ruler, and that she was 
secretly raising an army and preparing to take 
the throne by force. She sent her to the 
tower, and for a while it looked as if she would 
die under the executioner’s ax. But finally 
the queen’s affection overcame her suspicion, 
and Elizabeth was freed. 

That was about the only time, however, that 
this sovereign showed mercy or forgiveness. 
By her wholesale executions she made her 
reign a period of such terror in England that 
she is known to history as Bloody Mary. Yet 
during the days at Hatfield Castle she was a 
loving, affectionate girl, lavishing upon her 
brother and sister a wealth of affection that 
later on it seemed hard to believe she ever 
could have known. 

Fortunately for England, the reign of this 
unhappy sovereign was of short duration. 
Five years after Mary ascended the throne 
she died, and then the scepter went to the hands 
of the girl who had trounced Rupert Chad- 
bourne because he abused her brother, the 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


238 

spirited young princess that Katharine Ashley 
called Bess Tudor. 

Elizabeth, queen of England, was the same 
vigorous, intense person she had been at Hat¬ 
field Hall. The intellect and energy that had 
made her one of the most accomplished girls 
of her time she now devoted to the upbuilding 
of her realm, striving in every way to make 
England mighty. She developed commerce 
and strengthened the navy and merchant 
marine. Because of the wealth and power 
that came to Spain through the voyages of 
Columbus and other navigators, that country 
began to look with favor upon acquiring addi¬ 
tional territory in Europe, and but for the 
quick action of Elizabeth England would have 
been invaded. A fleet called the Armada, 
which was believed to be invincible because it 
never had tasted defeat, was headed toward 
her shores. But the young queen despatched 
her own ships under Admiral Howard to meet 
the fighting galleons; and the Armada was so 
crushingly defeated that Spain^s supremacy 
upon the ocean was ended, and England be¬ 
came mistress of the seas. 

Elizabeth fought the enemy upon the ocean, 
and she devoted her thought and her gold to de- 


TUDOR BESS 


239 

velopment both within and without. She of¬ 
fered splendid rewards to navigators, encourag¬ 
ing them to go on voyages in the hope of finding 
new lands. It was during her reign that Fro¬ 
bisher, Sir Francis Drake, Sir Walter Raleigh, 
and others whose names are identified with 
America’s period of discovery fared forth; but 
for the enthusiasm of their sovereign toward 
expeditions on the far Atlantic they probably 
would not have sailed. 

Even as the Tudor queen strove to make Eng¬ 
land great in a material way, she strove to make 
her glorious through intellectual and artistic at¬ 
tainments, for with her own love of learning 
and the elegant things of life she was not sat¬ 
isfied to have her country rich only in gold and 
land. Scholars and writers she paid hand¬ 
somely, and, inspired by the royal appreciation, 
they achieved magnificently. An immortal 
company of authors produced while she reigned 
over England, Sir Philip Sidney, Edmund 
Spenser, Ben Jonson, and that master dramatist 
of all time, ^'sweetest Shakespeare, fancy’s 
child,” as Milton called him. Not only did 
Elizabeth encourage these men to do their best 
work, but she read and enthusiastically praised 
what they produced. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


240 

Good Queen Bess, the people called her, and 
on the whole she was a good queen, as well as 
one of the greatest sovereigns of history. But 
not all of her acts were good, because, like 
Mary, she was sometimes suspicious beyond 
all reason and showed no mercy toward those 
who offended her. 

But to those who loved her—and there were 
thousands who did— she was a matchless, sweet 
lady, as well as a ruler without a peer. Had 
she not been possessed of much warmth of na¬ 
ture, as well as great force of character, she 
could not have endeared herself to the people as 
she did. No matter what her faults were, she 
kept always something of the impulsive lovable¬ 
ness and deep loyalty that made her the ‘‘sweet- 
est sister’’ of young Prince Edward, that caused 
her to fight for her brother and to weep bitterly 
when parted from him during her girlhood 
days at Hatfield Hall. 


.THE STUART ROSE 












XI 


THE STUART ROSE 

“TF we make haste through the underground 
A passage, your Highness, there is a chance 
that we can get her young Majesty to safety at 
Inchmahome. But each second’s delay multi¬ 
plies the danger, for Somerset’s lancer may scale 
the castle wall at any moment.” 

The face of Mary of Lorraine, queen mother 
of Scotland, paled with terror as she heard those 
words, for she knew what the coming of the en¬ 
emy would mean to her little daughter, Mary 
Stuart. The castle guard was weakened to less 
than a dozen men, because every soldier who 
could be spared from his post had marched 
south three weeks before to strengthen the Scot¬ 
tish army and drive back an invading host from 
England. But the mission upon which they de¬ 
parted had not been accomplished. Instead of 
being routed, the invaders were overspreading 
the land; for the Scots had suffered a crushing 
defeat, and now the English cavalry was hurry- 
243 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


244 

ing north to attack Stirling Castle, for the sole 
purpose of obtaining possession of a six-year- 
old girl. Lord Erskine had brought the word 
less than ten minutes before, as, galloping at hot 
speed and at the risk of his life, he had dashed 
from the battle-field and ridden north to warn 
the queen mother. 

Little Mary Stuart, playing with blocks in the 
nursery adjoining the hall where the fright¬ 
ened man and woman talked, was all uncon¬ 
scious of the storm that had broken over her 
home. It was in the days when Scotland was a 
free kingdom that it happened, and she had been 
queen since she was five days old; for then her 
father. King James V, had died without leaving 
any other heirs, and the crown went to his baby 
daughter. But even at the age of more than 
five years, although every one called her Queen 
Mary, she did not realize what being a queen 
meant, except that it brought one pretty pres¬ 
ents and pretty speeches. She had no idea what 
a perilous thing it was to be a sovereign in those 
days when there was always some prince or 
noble who wanted to get a throne away from its 
rightful owner and possess it for himself, and 
when a small matter of shutting some innocent 
person up in prison, or even killing him, dis- 


THE STUART ROSE 245 

turbed some folk not at all. She was just a 
care-free child, like other children, more inter¬ 
ested in playmates, pets, and games than in any¬ 
thing else. She looked up with curiosity when 
her mother called to Janet Sinclair, her nurse, 
that she must be prepared at once for a journey. 

^Ts it far that we go?’’ she asked, with child¬ 
hood’s eagerness to know what was about to 
happen; ‘'and do the four other Marys go, too?” 

By the “four other Marys” she meant Mary 
Beton, Mary Seton, Mary Livingstone, and 
Mary Fleming, girls of her own age who were 
her playmates and little maids of honor. 

“Yes,” the queen mother answered, “and 
many others, also. We will live on an island 
in a pretty lake, where there are trees and 
flowers and birds. I am sure you will be very 
happy there.” 

While Janet Sinclair hurriedly enveloped 
the little queen in a heavy cloak, other attend¬ 
ants were preparing the other small maidens. 
Then they went from the nursery down a cir¬ 
cular stairway into a cellar-like vault, and 
along a narrow, dark passage that wound like 
a twisted funnel through rugged hills. Amid 
the moldy odors that are a part of an unven¬ 
tilated, subterranean way, they crept forward, 


246 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

and finally came out into the open country al¬ 
most a mile beyond Stirling Castle, where 
horses, brought there by the order of Lord 
Erskine, carried them into the picturesque 
uplands that are known as the Scottish 
Highlands. After several hours' riding they 
reached a lovely sheet of water known as the 
Lake of Menteith, where boatmen ferried them 
to a wooded island, above whose tree-tops rose 
a gray stone building with an ivy-covered 
tower. 

‘^Oh, how pretty!" Mary Stuart exclaimed, 
as the prow of the boat in which she and her 
mother rowed grated on the beach. '‘The 
castle is not nearly as large as Stirling, but I 
like it." 

"Yes," Mary of Lorraine answered, "this is 
the island of Inchmahome. Perhaps we shall 
be here a long time, so I am very glad it pleases 
you." 

She did not explain that the place was so well 
hidden among the hills that the English sol¬ 
diers would be unlikely to find them there, but 
that was the case. The ivy-draped building 
that Mary called a castle was not a castle at all 
but a priory, a religious house. Even if the sol¬ 
diers sighted it they would not think of looking 


THE STUART ROSE 


247 

for the little sovereign there. They would 
seek her instead at the various lordly seats be¬ 
longing to the Scottish royal line or to some 
of the nobles, and not at the home of lowly 
churchmen. Therefore it was the safest re¬ 
treat in the land for the child who was in grave 
danger. 

Not because of any wrong-doing either by 
her or her people was Mary Stuart forced to 
take refuge in the Lake of Menteith, but be¬ 
cause Henry VIII of England, that unscrupu¬ 
lous king who sent people to the block without 
cause and without mercy, wanted to make the 
Scottish realm a part of his own. He was the 
little queen’s great-uncle, for her grandmother 
on her father’s side was his sister; but that she 
was his relative mattered not at all to him. 
He thought only of gaining a kingdom and, as 
soon as her father died, began planning to do 
it in the easiest way. Therefore he demanded 
that she be betrothed to his son, Edward 
Tudor, the brother Elizabeth so fondly loved 
and for whom she fought at Hatfield Hall. 

The queen mother and the Scottish nobles 
knew such a marriage would mean loss of lib¬ 
erty to them, for, according to the English law 
of that day, a wife’s possessions became her 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


248 

husband’s. They had no intention of being 
ruled over by an English king and would not 
consent to the engagement. 

But England was a great, powerful country. 
Scotland was a small realm, with but a hand¬ 
ful of men in her army, and Henry VIII threat¬ 
ened invasion. They were forced tb agree to 
the proposition, and before the little queen 
could lisp a word, she was promised in mar¬ 
riage to Prince Edward, then just six years 
old. 

With the passage of several years, however, 
Henry Tudor’s many cruel acts made the Scots 
realize the fate that would be in store for them 
if they came into his power. They sent a 
proclamation to London that the betrothal 
promise was withdrawn and that Scotland 
would arrange a marriage for its queen in ac¬ 
cordance with its own wishes. 

Henry VIII flew into frequent wild rages, 
but those who knew him well declared that 
never did he storm more terribly than when 
word came that Mary Stuart would not become 
the wife of his son. 

will force this marriage if I have to kill 
every Scot,” he thundered. And forthwith he 
set about preparing to invade the country. 


THE STUART ROSE 249 

He died before he could fulfil his plan, and for 
a while the people of the highland kingdom 
breathed easily. It was for a very little while, 
however. Then the Duke of Somerset, who 
ruled as regent in place of young King Ed¬ 
ward, came with a great army and with the dis¬ 
astrous result to the Scots that caused Lord 
Erskine and the queen mother to flee with her 
young Majesty to the sheltered island. 

It was the last of September when the party 
of the little queen took its hurried, secret de¬ 
parture from Stirling Castle. Now October 
was well advanced, and October, in the hills 
of Scotland, is a joy to the soul and the eye. 
Above the oak-brown heather that was like a 
richly tufted rug over the curving surface of 
the island frost-painted maples, beeches, bays, 
and chestnuts flaunted leaves of scarlet, gold, 
and jade. Autumnal sounds were in the air, 
sounds of cooing quail and calling bird, and 
everywhere were to be heard the bleating of 
sheep and lowing of cattle, as long lines of 
herds, urged on by drovers from the north 
country, tramped down the winding valleys 
toward the markets of Edinburgh and London 
town. Raising clouds of dust they came, 
many of them by the Lake of Menteith; for al- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


250 

though that lovely sheet of water was off the 
line of the much-traveled roads, drovers from 
sequestered sections led their herds that way, 
and to watch and count the passing animals 
was a joy to Mary Stuart. 

The picturesque, sturdy-looking men who 
urged the lumbering creatures forward inter¬ 
ested the small sovereign greatly, for she had 
not seen drovers before. When, now and 
then, one of them came over to the island to 
pray in the little church, she tried to make 
friends with him, and she did not need to work 
hard in order to do it. She was a lovable, 
beautiful child, and fishermen, mountaineers, 
all the country folk who approached the priory, 
were won instantly by her quaint, sweet ways. 
Eyes brightened with admiration whenever 
they caught sight of her, as with her young 
companions she bounded along the shore, her 
golden hair held by a rose-colored satin snood, 
and the tartan, as the gay-plaided scarf of the 
Highlands was called, billowing out above her 
dress of black silk or satin. Every one of these 
rugged, uncouth folk knew who she was and 
why she was hidden at Inchmahome. They 
knew, also, that they could line their pockets 


THE STUART ROSE 251 

with English gold by revealing the place of her 
refuge. But they would have died rather than 
betray her. 

‘^Oh, the dear little queen!’’ more than one 
of them exclaimed as their eyes followed her in 
her play. ‘‘She is our Stuart rose. A blessed 
thing it is that she will not go by marriage to 
England.” 

If they could have known what the years 
would bring to the child for whom they had 
such a deep affection, they would have tried to 
keep her at Inchmahome forever. 

One of the drovers who came to the Lake of 
Menteith during that October time was a giant 
of a fellow named Angus MacLean. He had 
brought a herd from the farthest part of the 
Highlands, and by the time he reached the 
waters that girded the island both he and his 
cattle were tired. So he camped on the bank 
just opposite the priory, and one afternoon 
when he came over to the island Mary immedi¬ 
ately made friends with him. He was gruff 
as a bear, but under his gruffness he was good- 
natured and warm-hearted, and to the little 
queen he seemed wonderful. He told her of 
his own small daughters at home, how he 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


252 

joined them in their games sometimes, and 
how, both morning and evening, they helped 
him feed the calves and lambs. 

‘'And when they have been very good,’’ he 
added, ‘T tell their fortunes.” 

Mary Stuart exclaimed with delight. She 
knew what telling fortunes meant, for Janet 
Sinclair, Lady Fleming, her governess, and 
even her mother, were always glad when Gip¬ 
sies came by Stirling Castle and were brought 
into the hall clinking beads and bangles to say 
wonderful things to the ladies. Having one’s 
fortune told meant hearing about the nice 
things that were going to happen, she thought. 
Therefore she cried eagerly, “Oh, please, please 
tell mine!” 

The drover smiled. 

“With a right good will,” he answered, “and 
many a lovely thing I’ll promise you.” 

He dropped at the edge of the shining beach 
that belted the water, and Mary curled up at 
his feet. Close beside her grouped her four 
little comrades, edging as close to the friendly 
stranger as they could get; and, just behind, 
Janet Sinclair sat with her embroidery. She 
was as much pleased as the children, for she 
reasoned it was likely that before he went back 


THE STUART ROSE 


253 

to his camp he would tell her fortune, too. 

“Will you tell Mary Beton’s and the other 
fortunes, too?’’ the little queen asked with a 
winsome smile. 

“Aye,” came the answer from the High¬ 
lander. “That will I do, also. Whose turn is 
to come first?” 

Mary hesitated a moment, her bright eyes 
flashing with glad expectancy. Then enthusi¬ 
astically she answered, “I ’ll take mine last, 
for maybe the longer I wait the nicer it 
will be.” 

Merry peals of laughter broke the drover’s 
speech as he began to picture what would hap¬ 
pen. Each one of the girls was to take a long 
journey, he declared. 

“And she ’ll nae come back to where the 
heather grows for mony a long year. But 
happy years they will be,” he promised, as he 
went on with his forecast, “filled with every¬ 
thing a wee bairn’s heart can wish for.” 

When finally the child sovereign’s turn 
came Angus hesitated a moment, as if uncer¬ 
tain what to say. Then, in a dream-like voice 
he said slowly, "'you will be queen of two 
realms, and in each you will be greatly loved.” 

She looked at him with a puzzled expression. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


254 

“Two realms ?” she repeated. “I don’t 
know what you mean.” 

“He means you will be queen of two coun¬ 
tries,” Janet Sinclair explained, “two big, big 
countries like Scotland.” 

Delight was very plain in the little face. 

“Oh,” she exclaimed blithely. “It is a nice 
fortune ? I like very much being queen of 
just one country. It will be better- still to be 
queen of two.” 

Then, gratefully, she added: “You are 
good, Angus. Now will you play one of the 
games with us you play with your own little 
girls?” 

It was not in the heart of Angus MacLean 
to refuse the request of a child if he could 
grant it. So, a moment later, he was romping 
through an old Scotch peasant game called 
hare in the heather, making believe that he was 
a rabbit and that the queen and her little com¬ 
rades were hounds. They yelped with joy as 
he dodged in and out among them, and kept the 
merriment going until shadows began to 
lengthen along the hills, and Janet said they 
must go into the priory. The drover went 
back to his herd beyond the water, to get to 
his rest early and be ready to press forward at 


THE STUART ROSE 255 

dawn on the march to London. And that 
night the little queen went to bed very happy 
in the thought of the fortune that had been told 
to her. 

Eleven years passed, and the island that was 
like a crown in the Lake of Menteith no longer 
echoed to the laughter of Mary Stuart. Fish¬ 
ermen and mountaineers, some of whom had 
known and romped with her, talked of the 
time when her glad calls had sounded across 
the water. Sometimes they sang a song of 
her which began, ''The beauteous Mary, when 
a child, for safety hither came,” and talked 
about the changes the years had brought. 
For the prophecy of Angus had come true. 
The five Marys had taken a journey, and the 
Stuart rose was queen of two lands. Many 
things happened before that came to pass, 
however, for not even in fairy-tales did events 
more amazing take place than those that 
followed the little sovereign's flight to 
Inchmahome. 

First, and less than a month after Angus 
told her fortune, a marriage for her was ar¬ 
ranged by her mother and the nobles to the 
dauphin or crown prince of France, and the 
contract provided that she be sent to France 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


256 

and educated with the French royal children. 
Consequently the little group that had lived so 
happily at the priory, set forth on another hur¬ 
ried and secret journey, this time to the gloomy 
castle of Dumbarton, high above the river 
Clyde, to await the arrival of galleys that were 
to carry the little queen and her train to the 
land of her future husband. It was a cold and 
uncomfortable shelter for a child of six; but 
the castle was one of the best fortified strong¬ 
holds in Scotland, and even if the forces of the 
Duke of Somerset tried to take it, they would 
have hard work making good the attempt. 

But they did not try. The English regent 
had other plans for getting possession of the 
child sovereign, plans that would be neither as 
troublesome nor as dangerous as to attack 
Dumbarton. 

Mary Stuart’s departure from her native 
country brought the first sharp grief she had 
ever known. Until she was about to board 
the galley that was to carry her to France she 
had thought eagerly of the journey, for she re¬ 
membered the fortune told by Angus the 
drover, and it seemed to her it was certainly 
coming true. But when she found her mother 
was not to go, when she was hurried aboard by 


THE STUART ROSE 257 

strange men and Mary of Lorraine stood on 
the shore looking with yearning eyes after the 
child she had cherished so tenderly, the forlorn 
bit of royalty wept piteously, with grief so in¬ 
tense it brought tears even to the eyes of some 
of the rough sailors. The four other Marys 
were with her, but that helped not at all. At 
sight of their sobbing mistress they, too, 
sobbed and wept and were about as unhappy as 
little girls could be. The wind howled, the sea 
raged, and throughout the course of the pas¬ 
sage from Scotland the boats tossed in a storm 
and were driven far out of their course. A 
fog so thick that even the oldest sailors said 
they never had seen its equal overspread the 
ocean, so that they had no idea where they 
were going or what dangers lay in the way, 
and all on board believed they never would 
reach shore again. 

*Tt seems God likes not the idea of this voy¬ 
age,’^ Lady Fleming, the governess exclaimed; 
‘‘that he has sent both fog and storm to im¬ 
peril us.’’ 

But when word came of some of the happen¬ 
ings since they sailed they found that the fog 
and storm had saved them. The Duke of 
Somerset, learning from spies he kept busily at 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


258 

work in Scotland that the little queen had 
sailed from Dumbarton, despatched a fleet to 
head off the galleys, seize the party, and bring 
it to England. The elements thwarted that 
plan, however. In the fog and wind that 
threatened destruction the hirelings of the re¬ 
gent failed to sight the Scotch fleet, and a little 
over a week after embarking from Dumbarton 
it landed at the little port of Roscoff, on the 
rocky shore of Brittany. And then began a 
new life in a new world for Mary Stuart. 

A life of radiant happiness it was for her, 
in the companionship of the French royal chil¬ 
dren and her four Scotch maidens, in palaces 
far more splendid than any she had known in 
Scotland. Now in a gorgeous royal seat 
called St.-Germain, now at an even more mag¬ 
nificent one, the stately, vast Louvre that is to 
this day the most glorious of the ancient edi¬ 
fices to be seen in Paris, now at Blois, now at 
Chenonceaux, and at several others of the im¬ 
perial homes of France—for the house of 
Valois, which was then the reigning family, 
had a dozen marvelous residences—Mary 
Stuart lived through a joyous childhood and 
girlhood. She was gifted as well as beauti¬ 
ful, and distinguished herself in all of the les- 


THE STUART ROSE 259 

sons and games that were shared by her, the 
French princes and princesses, and the four 
Marys. They were all nearly enough of the 
same age to work and play together, and in 
everything they attempted the young Scotch 
queen excelled. None of them danced as well, 
rode horseback as well, or were as proficient in 
music and the scholarly branches of learning 
as she was. She came of two houses famed 
for brilliancy of mind, beauty of face and body, 
and elegance of taste, the Scotch house of 
Stuart, and the French one of Guise of which 
her mother was a member; and in her it seemed 
that the most delightful characteristics from 
both sides of her ancestry reached splendid 
flowering. She was the idol of the people, and 
peasants in two kingdoms sang songs glowing 
of her. 

‘'The fairest rose of Scotland grows on the 
highest branch,^^ they caroled in the land of 
the heather, where her mother and a noble 
called the Earl of Arran were jointly ruling as 
regents. Along the streets of Paris, and in 
provinces throughout the country of her adop¬ 
tion, thousands of those who loved her sang: 

'‘She is fair as a star when only one 
Is shining in the sky.” 


26 o 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


Ronsard, king of French poets in that day, 
penned some of his most exquisite verses ex¬ 
tolling her, and so did many another gifted 
man. But through all the homage with which 
she was continually surrounded, and which 
would have spoiled most girls, she kept the 
same sweet nature that had endeared her to the 
peasants of Inchmahome. She was still the 
Stuart rose, as her countrymen called her, and 
she was the rose of France as well, adored 
throughout the entire realm by the lowly as 
well as the mighty. 

Her sixteenth birthday came, and the day of 
her marriage to the dauphin, and into the cap¬ 
ital thronged thousands of rejoicing people. 
Seldom has Paris known so mighty and happy 
a crowd as the one that gathered to see the 
Scotch queen go to her wedding in the cathe¬ 
dral of Notre Dame, and seldom has any city 
witnessed such a display of splendor as at her 
nuptials. Gorgeous pageantry, feasting, and 
showering of gold coins on the populace were 
part of it. Long lines of velvet-draped litters 
moved along the street from the palace to the 
cathedral, bearing the king and queen and the 
great ladies of France. A carpet of cloth of 
gold and sea-blue velvet lined the route along 


26 i 


THE STUART ROSE 

which the procession passed, while a canopy of 
the same costly stuff gave protection from the 
sun. ‘^The robe of the royal bride,’’ writes a 
chronicler of that day, ^Vas whiter than a lily.” 
Attached to it was a train twelve yards long. 
The entire costume was so thickly studded with 
precious stones that as the youthful wearer 
moved up the great cathedral aisle she was like 
some glittering fairy. Before and behind her 
walked the nobles of the realm, each one mag¬ 
nificently clad, and her Scotch musicians and 
minstrels, dressed in the red and yellow liveries 
that were her own colors; for although France 
had become her land by adoption, she was still 
queen of Scotland, and everywhere the colors 
and arms of Scotland were apparent. 

Throughout the night after the wedding 
ceremony the populace danced and feasted in 
the streets and sang songs of rejoicing and 
well-wishing. And all night long, in the 
stately Louvre, the nobility made merry, with 
banqueting, dancing, and a pageant in which 
six ships with silver masts and sails of silver 
gauze sailed about the hall on a sea of painted 
velvet. In these ships rode the dauphin and 
the most exalted lords of France, and as they 
passed the marble table where the great ladies 


262 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

were seated, each lord caught a lady and bore 
her with him in the shining galley. All was 
so glittering and beautiful that writers of that 
day say it was impossible to say which blazed 
most brilliantly, ^'the lamps, the jewels, or the 
ladies’ eyes.” Thus, amid splendor such as 
very few queens have known, Mary Stuart be¬ 
came the bride of Francis of Valois, dauphin 
of France. 

Fifteen months went by, and the king of 
France died. His son succeeded him as 
Francis II, and Mary, as his wife, became 
queen. Thus the prophecy of the drover was 
fulfilled. The daughter of Scotland was 
sovereign of two realms; and in France, as well 
as in her native island, never did more beloved 
queen wear a crown. She was still the gra¬ 
cious, unaffected, gifted girl she always had 
been, and no matter how the people felt toward 
the royal family, or in regard to the political 
issues that are part of the life of every land, 
they had only friendliness for Mary Stuart. 
Poets still wrote exulting verses in praise of 
her graces and virtues, and the populace sang 
as admiringly as the poets: 

‘As Nature moulded Mary's form and face. 

So Art adorned her with transcendant grace; 


THE STUART ROSE 263 

Glorious she shone, thus peerless in her kind, 

Blending all beauties with a heavenly mind; 

But she her talents had so nobly reared 

That Nature rude, and Art inept appeared.’^ 

But this reign of joy was not to last. At 
the end of a year and a half her young hus¬ 
band died. Another took her place on the 
throne of France, and she could no longer 
remain in the country. She returned to 
Scotland to assume active rule in the land from 
which she had been so long absent, and from 
that time the star of her happiness steadily 
declined. 

The balance of her life is a troubled and piti¬ 
ful story. She loved peace, and wanted to live 
in peace, and to make and keep her realm peace¬ 
ful and happy. But it was not to be. During 
the years she had been away, unwise and some¬ 
times treacherous acts on the part of the re¬ 
gents had stirred up discord. Many of the 
nobles were plotting against each other and 
against the people, because of the hope of gain 
to themselves. She tried but was unable to 
control the intrigue of those at court. Every¬ 
thing she did was misrepresented and turned 
against her, and although at first she did not 
realize it she was surrounded by greater dan- 


264 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

ger than any that had been part of her 
childhood. 

After being in Scotland several years Mary 
married a noble named Lord Darnley, who 
proved to be a drunken, unprincipled husband, 
abusive to her and to their little son who was 
born a year afterward. He tyrannized over 
the people in every possible way and made him¬ 
self so obnoxious that he was assassinated. 

Then some of the queen’s enemies spread the 
report that she had brought about her hus¬ 
band’s murder. The assassins testified tha:t 
she was innocent of any part in the crime, but 
malicious tongues continued to spread the re¬ 
port. They spread it still more when a little 
later she married another noble. Lord Both- 
well, and they proclaimed that Darnley had been 
killed by her order so that she could take a 
mate more to her liking. The truth was, 
Bothwell was not to her liking at all. He was 
a coarse, brutal fellow, while she was a woman 
of great refinement and elegance of taste. She 
was forced into the marriage, as many another 
woman of royalty has been forced into a union 
hateful to herself, by scheming politicians. 

In Mary’s case, however, the very union she 


THE STUART ROSE 265 

tried to escape was turned against her. The 
people were steadfast in their loyalty, and to 
them she was still the loved sovereign, the 
Stuart rose. But among those in high places 
were many who wanted her out of the way be¬ 
cause of the hope that through her removal 
from the throne they might mount to higher 
positions. They were like spiders spinning a 
web in which to enmesh and destroy her, and 
things went on from bad to worse. 

Across in England, Elizabeth Tudor was 
queen, and Elizabeth, although she was Mary’s 
cousin, was jealous of, her, because the Scotch 
sovereign was far more beautiful than her¬ 
self. She feared her, also, for well she knew 
that as a grand-niece of Henry VIII Mary was 
in the line of succession to the English throne. 
Therefore, knowing how the British ruler felt 
about the Scotch one, the plotting nobles ar¬ 
ranged for a report to reach Elizabeth that her 
cousin was planning to seize the throne. At 
the same time these malicious politicians forced 
Mary Stuart to abdicate. They shut her up 
in prison at Lochleven Castle, and she knew 
not at what moment they would take her life. 

Finally, however, she managed to escape and 


266 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


fled to England, believing, as the queen of that 
land was her cousin, that she would find safety 
there; for she did not know that evil reports, 
and even forged letters that represented her as 
a traitor, had gone to the Tudor sovereign 
from some of her own ministers. She went in 
hope and trust, but Elizabeth received her in 
suspicion, believing she had come to seize her 
throne. So Mary was shut up in prison and 
condemned to die under the ax as a traitor. 

Thus ended the career of the child who had 
been the idol of the peasants of Inchmahome, 
of the girl sovereign who was adored through¬ 
out France, of the Stuart rose who was equally 
adored by the people of her own land. She 
went to the block at Fotheringay Castle on 
February 8, 1587, and died as she had lived, 
a gracious and lovable woman. The execu¬ 
tioners who were forced to carry out the sen¬ 
tence knelt at her feet as she mounted the 
scaffold and begged her to forgive them for 
what they were about to do. 

^T forgive you and all the world with all 
mine heart,’’ she returned compassionately; 
'Tor I hope this death will give an end to all 
my troubles.” 

Then, led by the two she had forgiven to 


THE STUART ROSE 267 

the last spot she was to know on earth, she 
bowed her head and exclaimed, ^Tnto Thy 
hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit!’’ 

In the noble pile called Westminster Abbey, 
where so many of the great of the world sleep, 
Mary Queen of Scots lies at rest. Above her is 
a statue, erected in loving memory by her son, 
the babe born during her stormy years in Scot¬ 
land, who afterward became King James I of 
Scotland and England. It is a marvelous like¬ 
ness of the sovereign whose life was marked 
by so much tragedy and by many graceful and 
gracious deeds. Beneath her head is a mass 
of tasseled cushions. At her feet lies the Scot¬ 
tish lion, emblem of the ancient kingdom over 
which she had ruled. And in through the 
splendid windows of the abbey, tinged to opal¬ 
escent colors by the magic of the glass, the sum¬ 
mer and winter sunshine streams with subdued 
radiance upon the marble head. Men and 
women from the four corners of the world 
pause beside the sculptured likeness of the great 
lady who rests below, Mary Stuart, queen of 
Scots, one of the most beautiful, beloved, and 
unfortunate women known to history. 


THE CANDLES OF MANTON 
LE CLAIRE 




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XII 

THE CANDLES OF MANTON LE CLAIRE 

P ARIS was in holiday dress that morning, 
and the streets on both sides of the Seine 
throbbed with the excitement that in monar¬ 
chical days marked the approach of a royal 
wedding. The Austrian archduchess, Marie 
Antoinette, with a train of courtiers from two 
kingdoms, was entering the capital on her jour¬ 
ney from Vienna to become the bride of Louis 
the Dauphin, as the crown prince was called. 
She was only fifteen years old and full of 
dreams of a rosy future but just a little fright¬ 
ened now and homesick because of having left 
her mother and sister and all the loved asso¬ 
ciations of childhood to live in a land where 
both people and customs were strange. 

The French populace was by no means 
friendly to kings just then. They had suf¬ 
fered because of the rule of some very bad 
ones and resented the royal arrangement that 
chose for their future queen a girl from the 
271 


272 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

coart of Austria, for which country they had 
little affection. But, as the golden-haired 
stranger leaned from the coach and smiled at 
them, although there were some who scowled 
and murmured, the majority forgot their dis¬ 
approval and cheered wildly. 

Especially was one old man delighted at the 
sight of the young archduchess. His name 
was Manton le Claire, and although his cloth¬ 
ing was shabby he was one of the most famous 
clock-makers in Europe. During his earlier 
years he had traveled to almost all the great 
courts, constructing timepieces for kings and 
queens. When Marie Antoinette was seven 
years old, he was called to Austria by her 
mother. Queen Maria Theresa, to make a clock 
for the palace of Schonbrunn, the royal coun¬ 
try home near Vienna. Five years he worked 
there in the calm of the splendid old park, and 
during that time the little princess and her sis¬ 
ter Caroline spent many hours at the rustic hut 
that was his shop. The three became excel¬ 
lent friends, and now as Marie Antoinette drove 
into the city she thought of him with affection. 
She wondered whether she should ever see him 
again. 

As the procession swept along the Rue 


THE CANDLES OF MANTON 273 

Royale, she suddenly glimpsed him standing in 
the crowd. 

^‘Manton!’’ she exclaimed, as she leaned far 
out and waved to him. 

The people who heard and saw stared in 
astonishment. It was not the way of prin¬ 
cesses to call from their coaches to shabby old 
men in street throngs, and it was a bit shock¬ 
ing to them, for they did not know that for 
all the pomp in which she rode, the little Aus¬ 
trian was very homesick and lonely at that 
moment; and the shabby craftsman seemed her 
one friend in all the French city and country. 

‘^Oh, the dear child the clock-maker mur¬ 
mured, as he waved back to her. “She has the 
same sweet spirit. I knew the years would 
not spoil her.’’ 

His eyes grew moist at the thought of the 
days at Schdnbrunn, where Marie and Caro¬ 
line were happy as larks in the elm-trees. He 
wished it had not been the fate of this glad- 
hearted child to come to the court of France, 
where there was much selfishness and intrigue 
and corruption, and where he feared there 
would be sorrowful days for her. 

“But her sunny nature will warm the hearts 
of even the scheming knaves there,” he thought. 


274 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

And with a great hope in his own heart that 
the years would hold only happiness for her, he 
watched the train move on. 

It was autumn in the country, the fragrant, 
flower-spangled dreamland of a country that 
lies southwest of Paris, and a golden-haired 
girl was hurrying through the great park of 
Versailles. She wore a frock of shimmering 
turquoise satin, and a broad-brimmed hat of 
finest straw dangled by a neck-band from her 
arm. Her slippers were of velvet-soft kid, and 
the lace at the neck and wrists of her frock 
was of the costliest* pattern from the Brussels 
looms. 

To-day the chateau of Versailles is a mu¬ 
seum, a relic of the period when royalty was 
mighty in France, when the word of one man 
decided the fate not only of individuals but of 
the entire country. But in those days it was 
the home of the king, and its bower-like gar¬ 
dens echoed to the laughter of nobles and court 
ladies. 

There was a time when the royal seat was 
just a hunting-lodge, but the charm of the for¬ 
est and slopes beyond it drew Louis XIH there 
so often that in 1624 he commissioned an ar¬ 
chitect to enlarge it into a residence. Kings 


THE CANDLES OF MANTON 275 

who followed him did likewise, adding a wing 
here, a court there, until the modest retreat 
expanded into a structure large enough to hold 
a small city and became one of the most sump¬ 
tuous royal residences in the world, with gar¬ 
dens, fountains, and gorges, and shaded, wind¬ 
ing walks that made the place a veritable fairy¬ 
land. 

At Versailles lived Marie Antoinette from 
the day she wedded Louis the Dauphin, and 
here there was much to delight her, for hers 
was a beauty-loving soul, and the royal estate 
was a realm of beauty. Hours and hours she 
spent watching the birds, the squirrels, and 
shadows at play on the wide green spaces un¬ 
der the trees, or romping with her dogs in the 
maze behind the Petit Trianon, a villa much 
loved by the court ladies, so small and dainty 
and charmingly set in the green of the garden 
that beside the splendor of the palace it seemed 
a delicate bit of lace. Then there were the 
fountain basins where colored fishes from the 
Mediterranean swam in clear, bright pools, and 
beyond them was an aviary, the home of 
strange-hued birds. 

But this morning she had not come to loiter 
among the flowers. She was on her way to 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


276 

the house of Manton le Claire, the clock-maker, 
who lived in a cottage just beyond Versailles. 
Because of the many beautiful timepieces the 
old craftsman had made for the palace, he was 
in high favor with Louis XV, and on his sev¬ 
entieth birthday the king had pensioned him 
and given him a home where he might spend 
his days in ease. But ease to this artist worker 
meant doing the thing he loved best, which was 
plying the tools he had used for so many years, 
making curious and beautiful articles to mark 
the hours. Although he no longer had to 
work for a living, he spent most of the day at 
his bench, and the money obtained from the 
sale of the clocks he made and sold was used 
in spreading cheer among the poor. Marie 
came to see him very often and sat and talked 
as he worked, for to be in his shop brought 
back the days at Schonbrunn where she had 
been so happy. 

Manton was a merry-hearted fellow and al¬ 
ways called out a gay greeting at sight of his 
friend. But this morning he seemed de¬ 
pressed, and had none of his usual blithe 
manner. 

The keen-eyed girl noticed it immediately 
and said, ‘'You seem not yourself to-day.’’ 



‘But this morning she had not come to loiter among the flowers” 






























THE CANDLES OF MANTON 277 

‘T Ve had bad news/^ he answered. ‘‘Prince 
Lacertau has gone on a journey to Russia and 
will not return until next spring. That means 
that even though I finish his work within a 
month there will be no pay until March or 
April. I had counted on the prince’s money 
for my New Year’s gifts and have already 
spent all else that I have earned or otherwise 
obtained in assisting some poor neighbors. It 
grieves me to think of the disappointed chil¬ 
dren of Paris.” 

The dauphiness did not need to ask what he 
meant. Like almost every one else, she knew 
that on New Year’s day, the merriest holiday 
of all the year in France, the old clock-maker 
spread delight among poor boys and girls from 
a booth in the Rue des Lombards. 

New Year’s day along the Seine and all the 
other French rivers is the great gift time of 
the year. Christmas—Noel as they call it in 
France—is a beautiful religious holiday and is 
observed with much reverence. But New 
Year’s is the day of jollity, of gift-making and 
sending merry greeting. Every one gives 
presents to his friends then, no matter how 
poor the offerings are, and the children have a 
feast of games and cakes and bonbons. Be- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


278 

cause old Manton knew there were boys and 
girls in Paris whose parents and friends were 
so poor they could buy not even a tiny sweet¬ 
meat, each year with the coins earned at his 
clock-making he purchased trinkets and sweets, 
and every child who passed got something 
pleasing to his palate, while the ragged ones 
who seemed sadly in need of it received cloth¬ 
ing to keep them warm. But this winter 
there would be no money. 

A grave expression came into Marie An¬ 
toinette’s eyes as she thought about the de¬ 
parture of Prince Lacerteau. Then suddenly 
she smiled. 

'T ’ll ask Grandfather Louis to help,” she 
exclaimed. ‘'He can furnish the money, and 
you can give out the presents, and things will 
be just as nice as ever.” 

Away she went to talk to the king, but when 
she told him her wish his Majesty stamped his 
foot and scolded. 

“Gewgaws for the children of the poor!” he 
exclaimed. “Bah! They do not need them. 
Not a sou will I waste in that way.” 

She pleaded with him, but he refused to 
listen. 


THE CANDLES OF MANTON 279 

“Away with such nonsensehe roared, and 
sent her from the apartment. 

So a disappointed girl went back to the house 
of the clock-maker with word that the king of 
France refused to help. 

“ is terrible she exclaimed, as she re¬ 
peated the conversation. “I would not have 
believed Grandfather Louis could be so 
unkind.’’ 

Manton le Claire did not answer. He was 
thinking how pitiful it was that a sovereign 
could squander thousands of dollars upon his 
own whims, as Louis XV did, and have no 
thought whatever for the wretched beings 
along the Paris streets. But he did not say so. 
In those old days, when the word of one man 
made the law of the land, common folk did not 
speak disapproval of the methods of rulers, 
even though they happened to be in high favor 
among them. 

Marie was very much distressed. It was 
the first time the king had been harsh with her; 
and, not being accustomed to harshness, she 
felt deeply hurt, especially as she knew she had 
not deserved it. Tears came into her eyes as 
she thought about it, but the old man said 


28 o girlhood stories 

gently, ‘‘Never mind, your Highness. We ’ll 
have to think of something else.” 

All at once the face of the dauphiness 
brightened. 

“Manton!” she exclaimed. “If you make 
some dear little hour-candles like the ones you 
gave Caroline and me at Schonbrunn, I will 
coax everybody at court to buy one. That will 
bring in a great deal of money.” 

“Always you have the good heart,” the 
clock-maker answered, “and now you have a 
good idea. But the wax! It will take a 
hundred francs'to buy enough to make the 
candles needed.” 

Eagerly the girl replied. “I can manage 
that. I have more than a hundred francs left 
of the parting-money my good mother gave 
me when I set out from Vienna. You may 
have it all if you need it.” 

So it was settled. The coins of Maria 
Theresa would provide the material required, 
and Manton le Claire was happy in thinking 
of the smiles he would see on children’s faces 
when New Year’s came. Marie Antoinette 
was delighted, and they talked and planned for 
an hour about coloring and ornamenting the 
candles and managing the auction. 


THE CANDLES OF MANTON 281 


As the plan was completed the dauphiness 
asked, ^'What kind of clock are you making 
for Prince Lacerteau?’’ 

''A clepsydra,’’ came the answer, ‘'such as 
they used ages ago in Greece.” 

“Clepsydra?” Marie repeated. 

“Aye, a water-clock.” 

Then in a drawling voice Manton told a 
story, a tale of how ever since the dawn of 
the world men had tried to find a way of meas¬ 
uring time. In the very ancient days, in Chal¬ 
dea, Babylonia, and Egypt, and in Palestine 
during Old-Testament times, they counted the 
passing of the hours by the motion of the sun’s 
shadow upon the earth. After hundreds of 
years some one with an inventive mind thought 
out a plan for a device called a sun-dial, by 
which the motion of the sun marked its shadow 
upon a dial face that any one could read. 

There were hour-glasses, too, instruments 
in which sand poured through a tiny opening 
from one side to another, an hour being re¬ 
quired for the grains to run through, at the 
end of which time the glass was inverted and 
the sand recommenced its work. There were 
also hour-candles, made by men who knew the 
exact amount of material to put into them so 


282 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


they would burn just the right time. And af¬ 
ter a while the clepsydra or water-clock was 
invented. 

Some say the first one was made by the 
Greek philosopher Plato, while others are just 
as certain it was the creation of an astronomer 
in Alexandria named Ctesibius. At any rate, 
both of these wise men hundreds of years be¬ 
fore Christ made an ingenious and interesting 
little timepiece in which wheels moved by 
water caused the gradual rise of a figure that 
pointed out the hours on a little index. Clep¬ 
sydras became the fashionable timepieces of 
Greece, and as years passed and workers im¬ 
proved them there were some very beautiful 
and complicated ones. 

Once men began to use wheels as an aid in 
marking time, it was but a step to making 
clocks as we know them: and a fascinating and 
wonderful craft clock-making grew to be. 
The rich had clocks of beautiful workmanship, 
while those who could not buy for themselves 
gave coppers toward a great community clock 
in the public square or church tower, like those 
of Rouen, of Strasburg, or Cologne. But here 
and there was some noble who wanted one of 
the old timepieces because of the novelty; and 


THE CANDLES OF MANTON 283 

iManton, who knew how to make them all, 
earned many a franc filling orders. 

Early the following morning the dauphiness 
brought the promised fund from the chateau, 
and joyfully the old man set out to buy the 
wax that was to mean so much to the poor 
children of Paris. 

It was Monday evening, the day after Christ¬ 
mas. As always, the chateau of Versailles 
blazed with lights from thousands of candles. 
Merriment reigned in the Salles de Croissades 
—Hall of the Crusades—for Marie Antoinette 
was holding an auction there. 

‘‘Everybody must buy a candle,” she cried 
eagerly, “not just one or two, but many, be¬ 
cause each one sold will mean a gift for some 
poor child.” 

Just as she was about to call for bids a sud¬ 
den murmur swept among the lords and ladies. 
The king was entering the hall, and his Maj¬ 
esty looked about in a bewildered way when 
he saw the group there and the table piled 
high with candles. 

“What means this?” he exclaimed. 

“I am selling candles to buy New Year’s 
cheer for the poor children of Paris,” Marie 
Antoinette returned brightly. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


284 

For a minute his Majesty did not answer. 
His brows knit in a frown, and then his voice 
sounded like a peal of thunder. 

'T told you they do not need trinkets and 
bonbons!” 

Consternation ran high among the courtiers. 
Marie Antoinette was as much amazed as any 
of them. 

‘‘Why,’’ she exclaimed in astonishment, 
“surely you are not angry. Grandfather Louis. 
You refused to give money when I asked you, 
but never a word did you say that I was not to 
raise it. Besides,” she added earnestly, “those 
boys and girls do need New Year’s gifts. 
They need them to make them happy.” 

No answer. The king just stood and 
scowled. 

“Truly, Grandfather Louis,” she pleaded, 
“I did not mean to disobey you.” Then, with 
something of her usual gaiety: “I know you 
want a candle. This scarlet one will burn for 
exactly an hour. You will have a lot of pleas¬ 
ure in seeing it melt away.” 

She held up a lovely flame-colored cylinder 
of wax. 

Louis XV had some very glaring faults: 
he was selfish, unprincipled, and cruel. But 


THE CANDLES OF MANTON 285 

he had some good traits, too. And now, as 
he looked into the eager eyes of the young 
dauphiness, the best of him came to the sur¬ 
face. His anger seemed to melt away. He 
smiled and said, ‘T ’ll give you a five-franc 
piece for it.” 

That set the pace. The lords and ladies re¬ 
sponded with both coins and voices, and soon 
every shining cylinder was sold. 

They tell about it yet along the boulevards 
of Paris, of a New Year’s day a hundred and 
fifty years ago when the children of the poor 
had such a marvelous holiday that they lived 
in memory of it for months afterward. From 
dawn until dark Manton le Claire stood in the 
Rue des Lombards, and every child who passed 
was given a sugar-horn filled with bonbons, 
while some who were ragged received warm 
clothing. And as they repeat the story they 
tell of other things that soon came to pass. 

Louis XV died. ’His grandson, the dauphin, 
succeeded him on the throne as Louis XVI, 
and at nineteen Marie Antoinette reigned as 
queen of France. She was young, impulsive, 
headstrong, and sometimes a foolish sovereign, 
but always a warm-hearted one, loved by all 
who knew her with the same deep devotion that 


286 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


marked the affection of the old clock-maker. 
But about the time she came to the throne the 
French people, maddened by the tyranny, in¬ 
justice, and shameful extravagance of several 
kings who had preceded Louis, revolted with 
wild unreason, fiercely clamoring for the right 
to live as free human beings, instead of in a 
sort of bondage in which they long had been 
held. 

When unreason and frenzy sway a people, 
chaos reigns; and now in France, in their mad 
desire for liberty, the populace forgot the mean¬ 
ing of liberty, ignoring the fact that liberty is 
marked by justice, and that justice consists in 
sparing the innocent and punishing the guilty. 
They determined to rid the land forever of the 
oppression of a monarchical government, and 
the boulevards of Paris echoed with shrieks of 
^^Death to the Bourbons!’’—Bourbon being the 
family name of the reigning house. 

A ruler of great ability and force of charac¬ 
ter might have prevented the revolution or have 
succeeded in quelling it even after it broke. 
But Louis, although a sovereign of good in¬ 
tentions, possessed neither of these qualifica¬ 
tions. He was just a likable young man, no 
worse than the average, and in some respects 


THE CANDLES OF MANTON 287 

a great deal better. By the surging populace, 
however, he was regarded as a demon, because 
he came of a line of kings under whose reign 
the poor of France had been wretched. So 
this kindly but incapable young man became 
the victim of circumstances. He was tried not 
only for his own shortcomings but for the sins 
of those of his blood who had ruled before him, 
and he was sent to the guillotine. 

Marie Antoinette, because she was queen, 
shared his fate. She, too, had to suffer for 
much for which she had been in no way to 
blame, and her life went out under the knife. 

In dying, even more than in living, she 
showed the nobility of her character. She 
mounted the scaffold with a firm step and head 
erect, a queen in demeanor, as she was in name. 

‘Tardon me, sir,’’ she said gently to the ex¬ 
ecutioner, whose foot she accidentally touched. 
She spoke not a word of blame against those 
whose thirst for revenge was ending her days. 
As for the last time her eyes traveled along 
the streets of Paris, she looked pityingly upon 
the gloating populace that had gathered to see 
her life go out, perhaps because she realized 
that they, like herself, were the victims of 
circumstances. 


288 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 

History and legend have many pages filled 
with the graces of heart of this Austrian girl, 
but none that shows more charmingly the gen¬ 
erosity of her nature than the one that tells 
the story of the candles of Manton le Claire. 


I 


SUNNY VIGEE 




i, 


XIII 

SUNNY VIGEE 

H er eyes were blue and laughing, the kind 
of eyes that seemed to speak even though 
her lips said never a word, and she was always 
so light-hearted that in the school where she 
was a pupil the other girls called her Sunny. 
Her father was a poor painter, poor both in 
rank and possessions, for there were many 
masters in Paris at that time—Greuze, Nat¬ 
tier, and others whose fame has come down the 
generations, beside whose works those of Louis 
Vigee seemed mere daubs. So there was 
never much money in the family purse, nor an 
oversupply of food in the larder. But it 
troubled the blithe-natured daughter not at all. 
The beauty of the world was hers to enjoy as 
much as the king’s. The magic of starlight 
and moonshine, the painted heaven of dawn 
and evening, and the trees in the wide old parks 
that tufted the boulevards along the Seine were 
things not even an emperor could take away 
291 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


292 

from her. So merrily she tripped back and 
forth along the Rue Coquilliere on the way to 
her lessons, well deserving the pretty nick¬ 
name her playmates had given her, Sunny 
Vig&. 

One morning—it was during the arithmetic 
class, and Monsieur Eugene Cauhape was very 
serious as he explained the rule of three—An- 
drie Bocquet suddenly tittered aloud. The 
girls all turned in amazement from the figures 
the master was making on the blackboard, for 
never before had such a thing occurred in that 
well-regulated class-room. 

Monsieur Cauhape whirled and looked at 
her. 

‘'Mademoiselle!'^ he exclaimed; and by the 
way in which he spoke Andree knew he de¬ 
manded an explanation. 

‘T could not help it," she replied. 

“What made you laugh?" he questioned 
sternly. 

Into the face of the little pupil came a dis¬ 
tressed expression. To give the reason would 
be to get her dearest friend into trouble. She 
felt she had rather take any punishment than 
do that. 


SUNNY VIGEE 293 

cannot tell/’ she returned in a quivering 
voice. am sorry I made a noise.” 

Master Cauhape walked to his desk and 
picked up a heavy ferrule. Methods used by 
teachers in 1765 were not methods of gentle¬ 
ness, and the other pupils began to tremble, for 
they knew what the punishment would be. 
Several of the more sensitive ones hid their 
faces in their hands, and tears came into the 
eyes of Cecile Lansier, who thought Andree 
the most lovable girl she ever had seen. Chas¬ 
tisement, in Monsieur Cauhape’s school, meant 
not a few light taps upon the hand; it was a 
painful ordeal. 

All at once another exclamation went across 
the room, and it was from neither Andree nor 
Monsieur Cauhape. Sunny Vigee spoke, her 
eyes very pleading as she said: “Please do 
not punish Andree. It was I who made her 
laugh. I was drawing pictures.” 

Angrily the schoolmaster strode down the 
aisle toward the bench where the white-faced 
speaker sat, the uplifted ferrule in his hand. 

“You think so little of your lessons you dis¬ 
turb the class!” he snapped .fiercely. “I ’ll—” 

He did not finish the sentence. Abruptly 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


294 

he dropped the ruler and stood looking at the 
drawing that had made Andree laugh—a 
group of children doing antics with a short¬ 
tailed dog. Seven little people in all there 
were, each tiny face plainly portrayed, each 
wearing a different expression. It was no or¬ 
dinary sketch, and Monsieur Cauhape knew it. 
He was amazed beyond words and could hardly 
believe a girl of twelve had made the picture. 

‘Who taught you to draw he asked, turn¬ 
ing toward the pupil who had spoken so plead¬ 
ingly a moment before. 

“Nobody,’’ Sunny answered. “I watch Fa¬ 
ther when he paints. Sometimes I try to make 
pictures like the ones he has done; sometimes 
I copy people I see; and sometimes I make up 
things out of my head. I am sorry I dis¬ 
turbed the class,” she added, “but I could not 
help doing that drawing. The idea of it came 
while you were talking, and it seemed as if I 
had to work it out.” 

Like a sudden gleam of sunshine after a 
storm, the anger left the schoolmaster’s face, 
and he smiled. He took the girl’s arithmetic 
and glanced through it and there found some¬ 
thing that amazed him still more: the margin 
of almost every page was filled with pictures; 


SUNNY VIGEE 295 

trees, flowers, animals, and children—mostly 
children, each one of them surprisingly well 
done. 

Monsieur Cauhape was no artist himself, 
but he knew enough about pictures to realize 
that the creator of these drawings had remark¬ 
able talent. For several minutes he studied 
the pictures, an expression of pleasure in his 
face and eyes. The girls were at a loss to 
know what had caused the sudden change in 
his manner, for to disturb a class, as Sunny 
had done, was a serious offense, indeed, in 
those days. Yet Monsieur Cauhape stood and 
smiled at her as if he minded the interruption 
not a whit, although a moment before he had 
rushed angrily toward her bench. 

Finally he spoke; and when he did it was in 
a voice so different from the one that had 
snapped at Andree it seemed not to come from 
the same man. 

'T shall excuse Mademoiselle Louise this 
time,’’ he said. 

Then he went back to the lesson as if noth¬ 
ing had happened and continued his explana¬ 
tion of the rule of three. 

In the twilight of that autumn evening. 
Monsieur Eugene Cauhape went to call upon 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


296 

the painter in the Rue Coquilliere, and Louis 
Vigee had the surprise of his life. He had 
been so absorbed in his own interests that he 
knew little of the pastimes of Louise. Beyond 
seeing her at meal-time, when often he was so 
deep in thought about a picture he hardly rea¬ 
lized she was at the table, he saw almost noth¬ 
ing of her. She was a motherless girl, so that 
there was no wife to tell him about how she 
spent her time, and he did not dream that al¬ 
ready she had become skilful at drawing. But 
when the schoolmaster showed him the arith¬ 
metic with its picture-bedecked pages he gave 
an exclamation of delight. 

'"She will make an artist if ever there was 
one!” he cried. “Those scribbled sketches 
show there is more talent in her small finger 
than in my whole body. To-morrow I will get 
her an easel.” 

The very next day he did, spending almost 
the last sou in his purse that his daughter 
might get to work. A painter named Davesne, 
who was a better artist than Vig& himself, of¬ 
fered to give her lessons; and Louise applied 
herself with such industry that she was a joy 
to her teacher. No day seemed too long for 
her to work with brushes and colors, and when 


SUNNY VIGEE 


297 

at night she left the easel, she thought hap¬ 
pily of returning to it in the morning. 

Three years passed, years filled with joyful 
achievement for Louise Vigee. She had 
learned all Davesne could teach her, and so 
now she had a studio of her own, where she 
painted pictures that sold for handsome prices. 
She earned more in a month than her father 
had earned in a year, for she had a great gift; 
and from the day she had her easel, she worked 
so industriously that her gift developed in an 
amazing way. By the time she was thirteen, 
word of the wonder-child in the Rue Coquil- 
liere had spread all over Paris, and Greuze, La 
Tour, Suzanne, Nattier, and other masters of 
that day began to take an interest in her and 
give her lessons. At fourteen she was selling 
pictures and was one of the famous folk of 
the capital. 

Life was a bright rainbow to the girl artist, 
for princesses, duchesses, and other great per¬ 
sonages flocked to her studio to have their por¬ 
traits painted, as well as distinguished strang¬ 
ers visiting Paris. Everything she attempted 
to paint she did remarkably well; but now, as 
in the old days at Master Cauhape's school, 
she liked best to do likenesses of children and 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


298 

beautiful women, and on these subjects her 
nimble genius achieved results that affected the 
beholder as pleasurably as a whiff of exquisite 
perfume. While her ability and industry 
brought her the gold of the nobility, her happy 
nature and warm heart won their friendship 
also, and she enjoyed privileges that were en¬ 
joyed by few in Paris who were not of royal 
blood. To those who watched her phenomenal 
success, it seemed her every wish had been 
realized, but her friends knew this was not so. 
One deep desire remained unfulfilled: she 
longed to paint Marie Antoinette, the girl wife 
of the dauphin. Louise had been in the street 
throng that lined the Rue Royale the morning 
Marie entered Paris and rode in state with her 
attendants toward the palace of Versailles, and 
at sight of the golden hair and blue eyes of the 
stranger in the fairy-like coach she had ex¬ 
claimed : ‘'Oh, the pretty thing! It would be 

a joy to paint her.^’ 

She still felt as she had felt that morning. 
She and the young dauphiness were exactly the 
same age, and she could imagine no happier ex¬ 
perience than working in her Highness’s pres¬ 
ence and copying her on canvas. But Marie 
Antoinette had not summoned her, and an ar- 


SUNNY .VIGEE 299 

tist who painted royalty could not ask for sit¬ 
tings but had to wait to be called. 

When spring touches the French capital it 
seems like the playground of the world, for 
there is much of the child in the grown-up 
Parisian, and, with the dawn of warm, soft 
days, men and women, as well as younger folk, 
feel a yearning to become villagers, a longing 
to sing and dance and romp through the old 
folk-games. They begin to dream of woods 
and fields, and want to get out to the flower- 
starred spaces and wear garlands on their 
heads. Whenever it is possible to manage it, 
they go—sometimes in such numbers that it 
seems like the pouring of the entire city into 
the country-side. 

Thus it happened that on a May morning 
a hundred and fifty years ago a girl with a bag 
and an easel drove from a house in the Rue 
Coquilliere, her face all wreathed with smiles, 
her heart light as a feather. It was Louise 
Vigee, starting on a vacation. Madame Su¬ 
zanne, wife of the artist, had a country-seat 
not far from the chateau of Versailles and had 
invited the girl painter to spend the summer 
amid surroundings she knew would be an in¬ 
spiration to her. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


300 

It was the first play period Louise had had 
since beginning work at the easel; but it was 
not to be wholly a period of idleness. She 
took pigments and brushes with her, because 
painting was her life, and she could no more 
have gone for weeks without touching a can¬ 
vas than a musician can live happily away from 
the sound of a beautiful voice or instrument. 
Before leaving the studio, she planned that six 
hours of each day were to be hours of work, 
and not once did she break that rule. But 
there were hours, also, in the pearly, fragrant 
mornings, of walking along blossom-sweet 
lanes, past hamlets gray and vine-wrapped 
that sheltered soft-eyed peasants. There were 
tramps at sunset-time toward the chateau, the 
fortress-like palace of Versailles that was 
the favorite residence of the French king and 
the home of Marie Antoinette. 

Louise loved every inch of the royal park, 
and although folk of common birth were not 
allowed within its domains, she, because of her 
friendship with some of the court ladies, was 
given permission to stroll wherever she chose, 
and long and delightful were the walks she had 
along the flower-bordered avenues. 


SUNNY VIGEE 301 

One afternoon she left the easel earlier than 
usual. 

want to reach the chateau by four o’clock 
to-day,” she remarked to Madame Suzanne 
as she took her sun-hat and started from the 
villa. ''I want to see the antics of the 
monkeys.” 

Louis XV had spent more money than any 
of his predecessors in obtaining attractions for 
the royal estate, and among the curiosities re¬ 
cently brought there was a troupe of Sudan 
monkeys that Philippe Marstonne, keeper of 
the animals, trained. Each afternoon he put 
them through their antics for the amusement 
of the court folk. Louise had always arrived 
at the garden too late to see the show, but to¬ 
day she meant not to miss it and swung briskly 
on the way so as to arrive in plenty of time. 
But an experience was in store for her that af¬ 
ternoon that was to mean far more than watch¬ 
ing the play of monkeys. 

Half an hour after leaving the Suzanne 
place the sky suddenly clouded. Her boots, 
dress, and hat were of materials a shower could 
not damage, and so she decided to go on, for 
she enjoyed being out in a light rain. But be- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


302 

fore she realized what black, threatening clouds 
had gathered above her a violent storm broke. 
Instead of a shower, it was like a deluge, 
drenching her to the skin, while lightning 
flashed alarmingly. The rain poured in pools 
over her face and filled her shoes, so that she 
walked as if through a puddle and felt very 
miserable. 

All at once, around a bend in the road, swung 
a silver-gray landau. The horses that drew it 
were plunging along as if terrified, and the 
coachman had to tug stoutly at the reins to 
keep the animals from getting beyond control. 
Marie Antoinette and Lady Victorine Andran 
were returning from a day of shopping in 
Paris, glad of each mile that sent them nearer 
the chateau. But when her Highness saw the 
dripping girl by the roadside she ordered the 
driver to stop. 

‘'Get in,” she called, as the door of the landau 
opened. “ ’T is terrible to be out in such 
weather.” 

Louise hurried to do as she was told, hardly 
able to conceal her amazement at the invitation. 
By both the face of the speaker and the coat 
of arms on the vehicle she knew it was the 
dauphiness, and it was an unheard-of thing 


303 


SUNNY VIGEE 

for a woman of the nobility to take a com¬ 
moner into her coach. And in that moment 
she knew the future queen of France was a 
warm-hearted human being as well as a great 
lady. 

“What is your name?'' her Highness asked 
pleasantly, as the postilion closed the door to 
shut out the gusts of rain. 

“Louise Vigee," came the answer. “I was 
going to see the tricks of the monkeys when 
the storm overtook me. His Majesty says I 
may walk in the gardens whenever I like." 

Marie Antoinette nodded. 

“Oh, I know!" she exclaimed. “You are 
the girl who paints so well. Grandfather 
Louis says you are to do my portrait some 
day." 

“Grandfather Louis" meant Louis XV. 
Louise hoped he would decide to have the work 
start very soon, because now, more than ever, 
she wanted to put the dauphiness on canvas. 

The carriage bounded on its way to Ver¬ 
sailles. Then, with Marie Antoinette and 
Lady Victorine within the shelter of the cha¬ 
teau, the coachman drove the drenched girl to 
the house of Madame Suzanne; and for days 
afterward Louise lived in memory of the chat 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


304 

with the golden-haired princess and in the hope 
that very soon she would make a portrait of 
her. 

Swiftly sped the days and months until five 
years more rolled over the head of the artist. 
Louis XV was dead. His grandson, the 
dauphin, succeeded him as Louis XVI, and 
Marie Antoinette was queen of France. She 
was only nineteen when she was crowned, and 
at nineteen, too, Louise Vigee reigned as queen 
of the easel. In the same month when the cor¬ 
onet was placed upon the head of the young 
sovereign, the girl painter was elected to the 
Academy, which was the highest honor that 
could come to an artist in France. About that 
same time she married a man named Lebrun, 
and henceforth she was known to Parisians as 
Vig& Lebrun. 

Harder than ever this splendidly gifted one 
worked now, painting unceasingly from early 
morning until dark, earning great sums of 
money and great honor, too, as she did like¬ 
nesses of high-born folk of the French capital. 
She painted the queen not only once but sev¬ 
eral times, and every minute of the hours thus 
occupied was a joy to her. A friendship de¬ 
veloped between the two that lasted until Marie 


SUNNY VIGEE 305 

Antoinette died and that still lives as one of the 
beautiful things of history. Very often her 
Majesty sent for her artist friend to visit her 
at Versailles. Sometimes the two met for a 
quiet hour at the studio, and when Louise be¬ 
gan doing her own portrait with that of her 
little daughter the young sovereign was greatly 
interested in the progress of the work and 
dropped in often to watch and praise. She 
was foolish and weak sometimes, this daugh¬ 
ter of Maria Theresa who became queen of 
France, but she was a woman of noble im¬ 
pulses and warm heart, and no one knew it 
better than Vigee Lebrun. The periods they 
spent together were always periods of happi¬ 
ness. But the sky of these two comrades, 
bright as a rainbow now, was to know a stormy 
sunset. 

The French Revolution came, bringing 
death to Marie Antoinette, to Louis, and to 
every member of the nobility that fell into the 
hands of the mob, and when the queen went to 
the guillotine it almost broke the heart of Vigee 
Lebrun. 

But there was no time to sit and grieve about 
it. Because she had been a friend of ^^the Aus- 
trian,’’ as the people called Marie, the mad- 


3o6 girlhood stories 

dened revolutionists were about to mete out the 
same fate to the painter. But, with her small 
daughter, she managed to escape to Italy and 
for many years lived an exile in the land of 
the Caesars, in Austria, Belgium, Bohemia, and 
Russia. 

But a splendid exile it was, for wherever she 
went she painted, and both gold and honor 
flowed in a continuous stream to her. She 
was feted like an empress in every country 
where she sojourned, and while in St. Peters¬ 
burg, Emperor Alexander made a personal call 
at her apartments and begged her to stay al¬ 
ways in Russia. For a time she thought she 
would do so. The Paris that had been a para¬ 
dise to her was the Paris of Marie Antoinette. 
Now that the queen and many of her friends 
were dead, she thought of the French capital 
as a city of heartbreak. 

But she was French, and as time passed 
France called. Memories of the old happy 
days haunted her. It was safe now to go 
back, for the power of the revolutionists had 
been swept away, and Napoleon I reigned as 
emperor. So one morning she set out for the 
land that held so many fragrant memories. 

Henceforth, within sound of the Seine. 


SUNNY VIGEE 307 

Vigee Lebrun lived and worked until she was a 
very old woman, dreaming of her youthful 
days when life was golden, leaving behind a 
record of a life of glorious labor in the cause 
of art and a wealth of canvases that are among 
the treasures of the world to this day. 



1 


i 


\ 




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BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 

















XIV 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 

I N colonial Virginia girls were grown up al¬ 
most as early as they were in Europe dur¬ 
ing the Middle Ages. Many of them married 
at fifteen, and so they were considered quite 
young ladies a year or two before that time. 
Thus it happened, one November evening in 
the year 1746, although Martha Dandridge 
would not be fifteen for almost seven months 
to come, that it was the time of her first ball. 
Her cheeks and eyes glowed with happiness, 
and it was in no way strange that they did, 
for the most beautiful of her hopes was about 
to be realized. Governor Gooch, with his en¬ 
tire suite, would be over from Williamsburg, 
and she was to wear the dress of ivory and rose 
brocade that had adorned her great-aunt. Lady 
Jocelyn Cushing, when she danced at the cor¬ 
onation of King Charles II of England. Ever 
since she was a very little girl she had dreamed 
of the wonderful occasion when she would 
311 


312 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


glide through waltzes with the proudest cav¬ 
aliers of Virginia arrayed in the gown a sov¬ 
ereign had praised, and now that dream was 
coming true. It almost seemed there was noth¬ 
ing more to be desired. 

Up in her chintz-hung bedroom, where 
Mammy Luce, the negress who had been her 
nurse and her mother's nurse before her was 
helping her to dress, Martha heard and saw 
with delight the signs of preparation. In 
usual times the family went to bed early, and 
the coming of evening brought thoughts of re¬ 
tiring. But now, as twilight settled over the 
plantation, ‘'the big house," as the darkies 
called the rambling, white-painted mansion, 
seemed suddenly to come to life. Candles 
glowed like golden flowers in the windows, 
standing in shining rows along the sills and 
flashing from crystal holders on every table 
that graced the spacious, high-ceiled room. 
In the garden bonfires flared, huge piles of 
driftwood being transformed into blazing pyra¬ 
mids by torches borne by hurrying negroes, 
and sending fantastic lines of light along open 
spaces where in summer sweet-williams and 
hollyhocks nodded and pungent tobacco leaves 
waved. Down among the cabins of the dark- 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 313 

ies excitement ran high, as from shadowy cor¬ 
ners and shelves edging hnger-marked door¬ 
ways came banjos and much-used fiddles, above 
which dusky heads nodded as strings were 
tightened into tune. And above the throb 
of the instruments deep, melodious voices of 
devoted negroes shouted: ''Happy evenin’. 
Missy Martha! Happy evenin’ an’ good 
luck!” Whereupon Eph, the oldest black man 
on the plantation, as his special contribution to 
the well-wishing, sent a volley of shots into the 
air from the fowling-piece with which he 
hunted rabbits and opossum. 

The sound of the shots and the shouting was 
like the charge of an electric current through 
Martha’s body, and she felt she could not stand 
still another minute. 

"Hurry, Mammy!” she cried. "I do be¬ 
lieve the guests be arriving, and I must be at 
the foot of the stairs when Governor Gooch 
comes.” 

Mammy Luce, fat and pleasant-counte- 
nanced, smiled indulgently at her young charge. 

"Doan be gettin’ agitacious, honey,” she 
crooned, " ’cause I ’se got yo’ almos’ finished. 
Ain’t nothin’ moah to do ’cept smooth yo’ curls 
a bit an’ fluff out yo’ petticoats.” 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


314 

As she spoke she deftly twisted the girl’s hair 
around her fingers and gave it a final lov¬ 
ing pat, and adjusted the gown that had won 
praise from a king almost ninety years before, 
spreading out the skirt until it became a 
frill of rose and snow around the slender 
figure. Then, settling back on her knees 
on the floor, she looked upon the result with 
admiration. 

''You’s de mos’ beautifules’ young lady in 
Virginny!” was her enthusiastic comment. 
"Dat’s what Marse John Custis gwine think 
when he sees yo’.” 

The color in Martha’s cheeks deepened at 
Mammy Luce’s speech. John Custis, a mem¬ 
ber of Governor Gooch’s suite, was a bril¬ 
liant, handsome man almost ten years older 
than she was. Her father regarded him with 
affection and admiration and prized his friend¬ 
ship highly, while Martha believed he was the 
very nicest man to be found anywhere. She 
skipped across the room and paused before a 
mirror that made a silver border almost from 
floor to ceiling between two of the windows 
and, at sight of her reflection in the glass, gave 
a delighted cry. 

"Oh, Mammy Luce, my dress is lovely, and 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 315 

you never have made nicer curls for me!” she 
exclaimed. 

Then, with a kiss of her hand to the brown- 
skinned woman, who looked after her with 
adoring eyes, she tripped out of the room and 
along the hall that led to the stairway. 

Upon reaching the topmost step she saw her 
cousin, Nancy Jones, coming in at the door. 
Nancy lived on a neighboring plantation and 
had come over early to help receive the guests. 
At sight of the rose-flecked satin billowing 
down the stairs she cried: “Patsy! It is a 
lovely vision you are to-night! What a pity 
John Custis will not be here to see you!” 

Patsy was the pet name Martha’s friends 
and relatives had for her, and into Patsy’s face, 
as she heard her cousin’s speech, came a look 
of keen disappointment. 

“What do you mean?” she questioned. “Is 
not John Custis coming?” 

Nancy shook her head. 

“No,” she returned. “Governor Gooch has 
despatched him with a message to Lord Fair¬ 
fax at Greenway Court. He rode by our house 
this morning and bade me tell you he is deeply 
sorrowful over the thought of missing your 
ball. Naught but duty could keep him away, 


3i6 girlhood stories 

he declared, and said for me to give you his 
very best compliments/’ 

The look of disappointment on Martha’s 
face gave way to a smile as Nancy delivered 
the message. Silently she thought, 'T am glad 
he wanted to come and that only duty keeps 
him away.” But aloud she said: 'Thank 
you for telling me that, Nancy. I hope his 
stay at Greenway Court will be very pleasant.” 

"Pleasant it is certain to be,” Nancy bab¬ 
bled merrily, "for there is no place in Virginia 
quite like Greenway. Never shall I forget the 
sojourn brother Jenfer and I had there when 
we went to the ball last summer, for truly it 
was wonderful.” Then, bobbing her head to 
emphasize her words, she added, "They say 
Lord Fairfax is so rich he cannot ride across 
his land in a month.” 

She launched into a colorful description of 
the English nobleman who was then the most 
talked-of man in Virginia, and of the pictur¬ 
esque country-seat he had established in the 
valley of the Shenandoah not far from Win¬ 
chester. On a wooded knoll overlooking the 
river he had built a long stone house with bird- 
cotes encircling every chimney, and porches 
shaded by a roof that sloped down into low, 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 317 

projecting eaves. Five hundred servants were 
needed for the care of this great country place 
and to work around the extensive stables and 
kennels that housed the numerous and valuable 
hunting horses and dogs. The abundance of 
food that loaded the table made it seem a per¬ 
petual banquet-board, for there were venison, 
wild turkey, and duck from the woods and 
marshes, and fish from the swift-flowing Vir¬ 
ginia rivers, besides pork, beef, mutton, and a 
dozen varieties of vegetables that were raised 
on the plantation. Every comfort of life then 
obtainable made Greenway Court the most lux¬ 
urious residence in the New World. And be¬ 
yond the house and gardens, received by his 
mother as a grant from Charles II of England, 
and descended to the son, extended the vast 
forest holdings of the owner, embracing the 
entire Shenandoah Valley, and reaching far up 
into the Blue Ridge. Hospitality was the key¬ 
note of the place, and whoever stopped there 
received a welcome and a kingly meal. The 
rough frontiersmen and Indians were greeted 
pleasantly and invited to stay, as well as the 
flower of Virginia’s aristocracy; for Lord 
Fairfax loved people, and his door was open 
to all human kind. Sometimes gay parties 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


318 

brightened life at the estate—parties that 
were the equal in brilliancy of any in London; 
for although he lived at the edge of the wilder¬ 
ness, his lordship was rich enough to send to 
England for whatever money could buy, and 
the proudest cavaliers and most beautiful ladies 
in the colonies were delighted to receive an in¬ 
vitation to dance there. 

All this Nancy described in colorful detail 
as she told of the place to which John Custis 
had ridden. 

‘‘I have heard that his lordship’s cousin, 
George William Fairfax, will some day come 
into the estate,” Martha remarked as Nancy 
paused in her story. 

‘'Some folk be not so sure of that,” came the 
answer. “’Brother Jenfer says Lord Fairfax 
has taken a mighty fancy to Master George 
Washington, and many who have been .much 
at Greenway believe he will make him one of 
his heirs.” 

“George Washington?” Martha repeated. 
“I know who he is. When we dined with Gov¬ 
ernor Gooch a fortnight ago at Williamsburg, 
he came bringing a letter. I did not see him, 
but father talked with him, and says he is a 
most likable and promising young man.” 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 319 

Nancy nodded an agreement. 

‘^Likable and promising he certainly is, and 
it seems to me those are mild words to use in 
describing him. Last summer at the Green¬ 
way ball, I had two most wonderful dances 
with Master Washington, and very pleasantly 
do I remember them. Six feet three he stands 
without his shoes and is as straight as an In¬ 
dian. And they do say his mind and charac¬ 
ter are splendid as his body. The proof of 
how much his lordship thinks of him is in the 
fact that, although he is not yet sixteen, there 
is talk of his being sent into the wilderness to 
survey the Fairfax lands. I tell you he is the 
very flower of the youth of the Old Dominion.’’ 

Martha’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she 
looked at Nancy. 

‘^Flower of the youth of the Old Dominion ?” 
she repeated. ‘‘Maybe so, maybe not! Me- 
thinks John Custis can hold his own with Mas¬ 
ter Washington and not half try. You say 
he stands six feet three without his shoes? 
Then I care not to dance with him,” she added 
as she tossed her head, “because I like not over- 
tall young men.” 

Nancy laughed good-naturedly. 

“Saucy minx!” she retorted. “You say that 


320 GIRLHOOD STORIES 

because John is a bit chubby and has to stretch 
to reach the five-feet-eleven mark/’ Then she 
added tauntingly, ‘T suppose’t would be awk¬ 
ward for you, who are so tiny, to dance with 
so stalwart a youth, but most girls would 
choose George Washington for a partner above 
anybody in Virginia/’ 

Martha’s head went up a bit haughtily, but 
before she could reply a tinkling of bells in the 
garden told that the governor’s carriage was 
arriving, and a moment later the guests from 
Williamsburg, Virginia’s colonial capital, came 
into the hall. A gay assemblage of gentlemen 
in satin suits and powdered wigs it was, and 
ladies in silks and velvets cut according to the 
latest English fashion. Bright eyes gleamed 
below fluffy, snowy tresses, for in that day la¬ 
dies, as well as gentlemen, powdered their hair. 
There was an array of lovely gowns and faces 
such as Martha never had seen. Governor 
Gooch, dark-eyed, tall, and splendid-looking, 
was stately as a king in his scarlet satin 
evening-suit, and most of the gentlemen of his 
suite made an equally fine appearance. Nancy, 
being a year older than Martha, and having at¬ 
tended several balls at Williamsburg, as well as 
one at Greenway Court, was not unaccustomed 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 321 

to the brilliancy she beheld now. But the 
younger girl was amazed, dazzled, and de¬ 
lighted. She had not dreamed of anything haff 
so gorgeous as the governor’s suite, and her 
one regret was that John Custis was not with it. 

The darkies who were to furnish the music 
came in with their fiddles and banjos and took 
their places in an alcove under the stairway. 
Then the dancing began, and for an hour feet 
kept time to the measures of slow, dreamy 
waltzes. Martha, as hostess of the evening, 
was the belle of the ball, and it was an inex¬ 
pressible delight to her to have the courtly satin- 
and velvet-garbed gentlemen plead with her for 
the honor of the next dance. 

‘‘Truly this is heavenly!” she exclaimed to 
Nancy as she finished a waltz with Errol Ran¬ 
dolph, the governor’s secretary. “Three of 
the most splendid gentlemen have asked me to 
dance with them, and each one seems nicer than 
the other.” 

“Why should they not, you being the pret¬ 
tiest girl here to-night?” came the pleasant an¬ 
swer. And Nancy meant what she said. 
There was no one for whom she had deeper af¬ 
fection than this young cousin of hers, and 
her affection was untinged by jealousy or envy. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


322 

She believed Patsy Dandridge to be the loveli¬ 
est girl in Virginia and often and whole¬ 
heartedly said so. 

Just as Nancy spoke, her brother Jenfer an¬ 
nounced that the next dance would be a min¬ 
uet, and the more accomplished of the revelers 
sought their partners. Not every one present 
knew how to dance the minuet, for, although 
it had long been the rage at court in both 
France and England, it had been introduced 
into the colonies rather recently. Martha 
knew the steps, for Nancy, who had learned 
them at balls at Williamsburg, had taught them 
to her, and she was hurriedly turning them 
over in her mind to be sure she remembered the 
order in which they came, when, to her aston¬ 
ishment and delight, Governor Gooch bowed 
before her and claimed her as his partner. 

‘‘Oh, thank you,’^ she said impulsively, as he 
led her to her place among the dancers. “I 
hope I can do it well enough to please you.’’ 

And her cheeks and eyes flamed with excite¬ 
ment and pleasure as she waited for the start. 

The music was heavenly as they glided 
through the graceful, slow-moving dance, and 
Martha was so proud and happy in the thought 
of being the governor’s partner and so eager in 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 323 

her desire to have him pleased with her that 
she forgot everything but the minuet. Her 
dress billowed beautifully as she bowed and 
balanced, and she was so intent on retreating 
and advancing just at the right second that she 
did not hear a horse dash into the garden and 
halt before the door nor see a young man 
quietly but rapidly come into the room and 
take his place among the guests who watched. 
Not until the dance was finished and Governor 
Gooch said to her, ^‘Thank you, bonny Mistress 
Martha. You did that with a grace that 
would be a credit to a princess of England,’’ 
and she courtesied to acknowledge his compli¬ 
ment did she see John Custis standing behind 
her. Now her cup of joy was full, for she 
knew that he had heard. 

‘"John!” she exclaimed, surprise as well as 
happiness in her eyes and voice at finding him 
there. ‘T thought you had gone to Greenway 
Court.” 

The young man smiled and bowed low to 
greet her. 

“I started,” he returned in a deep, pleasant 
voice, 'Tut at the ford of the Rappahannock a 
messenger sent me back. I was to carry a let¬ 
ter to Lord Fairfax in person unless George 


324 GIRLHOOD StORIES 

Washington met me on the way to bear it to 
him. He was waiting at the Rappahannock, 
so I gave it into his keeping and rode back with 
all speed in order not to miss the ball.^’ 

‘'George Washington is much on our 
tongues to-night,Martha answered brightly. 
“Nancy has been telling me about him and de¬ 
clares he is the very flower of the youth of the 
Old Dominion. But I told her I know he is 
not a whit nicer than you are.’^ 

The eyes of the young man suddenly lighted. 

“Washington is everything your cousin says 
he is, and I believe with Lord Fairfax that 
some day the world will hear of him.’’ Then 
he added earnestly: “Just the same I thank 
you for saying what you did. And I want to 
tell you, too,” he continued, “that I wish you 
could have seen yourself going through that 
minuet. My, but it was good to see little 
Patsy Dandridge dancing with the governor, 
and all the belles and beaus of Williamsburg 
looking on with envy in their eyes!” 

All at once, in the lull of fiddles and banjos 
that followed the minuet, a rich melody floated 
into the brilliantly lighted room. Down at the 
cabins the darkies were singing, their voices 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 325 

blending in a weird chorus that had sounded 
along African rivers long before it was ever 
heard in America, and that had been brought 
to Virginia with the first slave-ships. The 
guests poured out upon the veranda to listen, 
and some strolled into the garden, for the bon¬ 
fires kindled at dusk had been fed all evening 
and were still burning. The moon was shin¬ 
ing; the wind blowing in from the Chesapeake 
was crisp, but not biting; and the plantation 
was as light as day. 

John and Martha strolled down past the 
flower-beds with the others, and as they moved 
over the dew-wet soil the young man spoke in 
low tones. 

‘T have been dreaming of something ever 
since you were twelve years old,” he said, ‘^and 
to-night your father gave his word that I 
might tell you.” 

^'You mean?” the girl questioned, not quite 
understanding what was in his mind. 

‘T mean that I want you to be Martha Cus- 
tis, instead of Martha Dandridge.” 

Then, for almost a minute, she could not an¬ 
swer. She was too overwhelmed with joy to 
speak. 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


326 

There were no fast mail-trains in colonial 
Virginia, but even without them news some¬ 
times traveled with amazing speed. Before 
a week passed it was the talk on every planta¬ 
tion between the James and the Rappahannock 
that little Patsy Dandridge, as she was called 
because she was small and dainty, and John 
Custis were to wed. It was a happening of 
much importance among the aristocracy, for 
the Dandridge family was of the proudest 
blood of the Old Dominion, while John Custis 
was the son of the Hon. John Custis of Arling¬ 
ton, a man of great wealth, and counselor in 
the southern colonies for the king. That 
meant Martha would be mistress of a very 
large estate, larger and richer in every way 
than that of her father, which was splendid 
enough to satisfy most people. 

But Martha thought very little about the 
sumptuous home over which she would preside. 
She thought only that John Custis was what 
Nancy Jones called George Washington, ‘'the 
very flower of youth of the Old Dominion,’^ 
and that he had chosen her. 

“You would not speak such glowing praise 
of Master Washington if you did but know 
John as I know him,’' she remarked one day to 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 327 

Nancy as the two girls sat with Mrs. Dan- 
dridge and the negro women sewing upon the 
wedding clothes. 

Whereupon Nancy, seeing how eager her 
cousin was to have her praise the young man, 
did not taunt her. know,’’ she agreed pleas¬ 
antly. ^^Brother Jenfer says nobody is quite 
as nice as John Custis.” 

Martha Dandridge was only a little past fif¬ 
teen when she became Martha Custis and was 
even lovelier as a bride than she had been in 
the rose and ivory brocade when she danced 
with the governor at her first ball. After the 
wedding the young couple went to their new 
home on the Pamunkey River, to the residence 
that, with the exception of Greenway Court, 
was without a peer in Virginia. A wide- 
spreading manor-house it was, shaded by beau¬ 
tiful trees, and provided with every comfort of 
that day. Virginia planters were famed for 
their hospitality, and no one knew better than 
John and Martha Custis how to welcome both 
strangers and friends. Their table, like that 
of Lord Fairfax, was a perpetual banquet- 
board, and always it was large enough to ac¬ 
commodate a few more guests. People did not 
make short calls in those times. Ladies took 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


328 

their knitting and sewing with them and stayed 
all day, and whoever went to the Custis home 
was received by the mistress with a charm and 
loveliness of manner that made her famed all 
up and down the Virginia coast and rivers. 
The Lady of the White House, she was called 
throughout the York, James, and Rappahan¬ 
nock valleys, for the Custis home was known 
far and near as the White House. And 
whether people knew her much or little, all 
spoke in glowing praise of her. 

Happily almost seven years passed, during 
which time three children were born to John 
and Martha, two sons and a daughter. Then 
sorrow came, for the eldest boy died. The 
death of his father occurred shortly afterward, 
and Martha was left a widow. She was only 
twenty-three years old, and even more beauti¬ 
ful than she had been at fifteen. 

It was not easy for a woman alone to manage 
a great plantation, direct almost a hundred 
servants, take care of a large fortune, and have 
the responsibility of two children beside, but 
Martha Custis did it, and she continued the 
same hospitality that had made the White 
House famous before her husband died. Still 
both friends and strangers were graciously re- 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 329 

ceived at her threshold. Almost never did the 
family sit down to a meal without from one to 
ten or a dozen guests, and all who stopped 
there departed to tell of the friendliness and 
charm of the beautiful hostess. 

A short distance up the Pamunkey from the 
White House lived a family named Chamber- 
layne on another great estate. Both Mr. and 
Mrs. Chamberlayne were devoted friends of 
Martha’s, and very often she took her children 
and went to their home for several days’ visit. 

There was much to talk about during those 
sojourns, for troublesome times had begun in 
the country to the west and north. France 
and England were disputing over the territory 
along the Ohio and its tributary streams, and 
word had come from England to drive the 
French out. Governor Dinwiddie, who now 
directed the affairs of the colony, because fail¬ 
ing health had forced Governor Gooch to give 
up his post and return to the mother-country, 
had despatched the Virginia troops to carry 
out the order. Already several battles had 
been fought on the frontier, and it began to 
look as if there would be a long and 
dreadful war. 

One day Martha went to visit Mrs. Cham- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


330 

berlayne. The women were sitting on the 
porch sewing, for it was July, and bird-song 
and flower-fragrance made the out-of-doors 
sweet, and Mr. Chamberlayne played with the 
children on a grassy slope just beyond them 
at rolling hoops along the green, when a sud¬ 
den commotion among the negroes told that 
strangers had arrived at the plantation. From 
the veranda they could see that a boat had 
crossed the river, and from it stepped a tall 
man. He wore the uniform of a Virginia 
colonel, and his face was bronzed and weather¬ 
beaten by life in the open. 

Mr. Chamberlayne went down to meet him. 
It was almost dinner-time, and with character¬ 
istic Virginia hospitality Mr. Chamberlayne 
urged him to stay and share the meal. 

At first the stranger refused. 

'T am bound to Williamsburg on a mission 
of great importance and cannot tarry,” he 
objected. 

''You will gain speed if you journey on a 
full stomach,” the master of the plantation 
urged. So the invitation was smilingly ac¬ 
cepted, and together the two went to the house. 

"What a tall man!” Martha thought as she 
saw the new-comer move across the tobacco 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 331 

field with his host, and up past the flower-beds 
to the veranda. He seemed like a spare young 
giant, for although broad-shouldered and well 
proportioned, he had not a superfluous pound 
of flesh upon his frame. Strikingly handsome 
of face he was, and had large, intelligent eyes. 
And in voice and manner he was as pleasing as 
in appearance. 

'‘Major George Washington,” Mr. Chamber- 
layne explained as he introduced him. "He is 
on his way to Williamsburg to ask the council 
to furnish arms, tents, and provisions for the 
troops along the frontier.” 

George Washington! Quick as a flash 
Martha recalled the conversation she and 
Nancy Jones had had the night of her first 
ball, and she remembered that her cousin had 
called him "the very flower of the youth of the 
Old Dominion.” She had heard of him often 
since then, for he had made an excellent record, 
first in surveying Lord Fairfaxes land, and 
then as a soldier; for in several of the battles 
between the French and the English he had 
commanded the Virginia troops. Her hus¬ 
band, who knew him well, often spoke in high 
praise of him, and she recalled what both he 
and Nancy had said of his many likable qual- 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


332 

ities. Until to-day she never had seen him, 
but now, as they talked together, she believed 
the glowing reports had not been exaggerated. 
A more delightful young man it would be hard 
to find, she decided, and the dinner hour passed 
so pleasantly she was sorry when it ended and 
he had to go on his way. 

‘'On my return I shall hope to see you at the 
White House,’’ he said, as he said good-by to 
her. Then he hurried away to plead with the 
Virginia council for the tents, arms, provision, 
and clothing the troops on the frontier sorely 
needed. 

Colonel Washington did stop at the White 
House, not once but many times, and one day 
word went along the plantations that again 
Patsy Dandridge would wed. All who knew 
her were glad, for she had been a splendid wife 
to John Custis. She had spent almost three 
years of lonely widowhood, and it was good to 
think she would take a husband who was in 
every way ideal. Not only was George Wash¬ 
ington an able surveyor and brave soldier, but, 
although not nearly as rich as Martha, who 
was perhaps the wealthiest woman in Virginia, 
he was a prosperous planter, with a plantation 
called Mount Vernon, inherited from a brother 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 333 

who had recently died, overlooking the Po¬ 
tomac. But even if he had owned not an inch 
of land, he would have been a desirable hus¬ 
band for any woman, no matter what her 
wealth and station, because of his distinguished 
surveying and military record, his delightful 
personality, and, above all, his sterling 
manhood. 

They were married in the early winter, when 
the winds of January howled in from the 
Chesapeake, and along the northern Virginia 
tobacco fields and pasture-lands patches of 
snow lay. From plantations all up and down 
the York, James, and Rappahannock came the 
aristocracy of the Old Dominion to witness the 
ceremony and share the wedding feast. Lord 
Fairfax was there, proud as a man could be 
that the boy to whom he had taken a mighty 
fancy twelve years before, and in whom he 
had such high belief, had become everything he 
hoped he might be, and that now he was win¬ 
ning as his bride the very flower of the women 
of the colony. He had not made George his 
heir, but he had done something better than 
that. He had sent him into the wilderness, 
where men of strength grow stronger. He 
had believed in him and intrusted a youth of 


GIRLHOOD STORIES 


334 

sixteen with a mission that would have been 
worthy of a man of thirty and had called out 
the best in him. It was because of Washing¬ 
ton's record as a surveyor, and his knowledge 
of the wilderness, that he was given his first 
military command, and it was Lord Fairfax's 
friendship and belief that had made that record 
possible. And now the warm-hearted noble¬ 
man felt keen joy in the marriage. 

From the White House on the Pamunkey 
George and Martha Washington journeyed to 
Mount Vernon on the Potomac, where happy, 
eventful years rolled by—and some turbulent 
ones, too, for the French and Indian War was 
yet to be fought to a finish, and then the Revo¬ 
lution came; and both of those meant suffering, 
not only to the men who went to the battle¬ 
field, but for the women who stayed at home. 
During those years of fighting things came 
about that were almost past believing. They 
brought freedom to the colonies and undying 
honor to George Washington, not because he 
sought them, but because the honors sought the 
man. When the Revolution broke, the Con¬ 
tinental Congress declared he was the one to 
command the army, and just how he felt about 
it is shown in a letter written to Martha. 


BONNY MISTRESS MARTHA 335 

You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I 
assure you, in the most solemn manner, that so far 
from seeking this appointment, I have used every 
endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from 
my unwillingness to part from you, but from a con¬ 
sciousness of its being a trust too great for my capa¬ 
cities, and that I should enjoy more real happiness 
in one month with you at home than I have the most 
distant prospects of finding abroad, if my stay were 
to be seven times seven years. But, as it has been 
a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this 
service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is de¬ 
signed to answer some good purpose. 

Patsy did understand and rejoiced in every 
bit of distinction that came to her husband. 
No matter what high office sought him, she, as 
his wife, was able to fill her position with dig¬ 
nity. When he became first President of our 
nation, she presided with as much charm over 
his household as she had presided over the 
White House on the Pamunkey. During 
those early years of the republic the people 
affectionately called her Lady Washington and 
declared that no queen ever held her place with 
more grace than she held hers. The tribute 
pleased her, but the thing that mattered most 
was being just the wife of George Washing- 


336 GIRLHOOt) STORIES 

ton, no matter whether he was a private citizen 
or the first man in his country. 

'"But Patsy,’’ Nancy Jones exclaimed one 
day, when, from her plantation home in Vir¬ 
ginia, she came on a visit to Philadelphia, then 
America’s capital, and saw the joy in her 
cousin’s eyes whenever her husband came near, 
‘'George stands six feet three without his 
shoes, and you once told me you liked not over- 
tall young men.” 

Across Martha’s face flitted the same saucy 
expression that had often delighted Mammy 
Luce on the old plantation. 

“Neither did I—then,” she answered, “but, 
as years go by, I find I like them taller.” 














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